"The Stepford wives cleaned my desk," Mia muttered and heard a chuckle behind her. Todd Murphy leaned against the wall, coffee cup in his hand, a smile bending his mouth. With his rumpled suit and loosened tie, he was a most welcome sight.

"Stacy,"' he said quietly, indicating their office clerk. "She went through what you'd been working on when Spinnelli reassigned your cases. Stacy got a little carried away."

"He reassigned all of them?" Mia hadn't expected their lieutenant to allow their cases to go untouched for two weeks, but hearing that he'd reassigned them all left her a little rocked. It was as if Spinnelli hadn't expected her back for a long while. Well, I am back. She had work to do. First and foremost was catching the sorry piece of shit who'd shot Abe. "Who took Abe's case?"

"Howard and Brooks. They worked it hard the first week, but the trail was ice cold."

"So Melvin Getts shoots a cop and gets away with it," she said bitterly.

"They haven't given up," Murphy said softly. "Everybody wants to see Getts pay."

The thought of Getts calmly lifting his gun and shooting her partner twisted her gut and she felt herself freezing up as she had outside. Fighting it, she strode to her desk with a belligerence she had to fake. "I bet Stacy even washed my cup."

Murphy followed her and slumped in his chair two desks down. "It was really gross, Mitchell. Your cup was growing… things." He shuddered. "Vile, unspeakable things."

Mia set the umbrella against her desk and shrugged out of her wet jacket, biting her lip against the twinge in her shoulder as she adjusted the holster under her blazer. "Good old-fashioned mold. Never hurt anybody." She pulled the worn fedora from her head and winced. No wonder the guy downstairs thought she was a street person. Both the coat and the hat looked like they'd been pulled from a Salvation Army bin. On the other hand, what did she care what he thought? You have to stop caring what people think. She sighed quietly. And she'd stop breathing while she was at it.

She turned her frustration to her perfect desk. "Hell, I can't work like this." Deliberately she toppled the stack of folders and rearranged the contents of her desk haphazardly. "There. If Stacy touched the Pop-Tarts in my drawer, she's dead meat." But her emergency stash was intact. "She can live."

"I'm sure she's been quaking in her boots," Murphy said dryly. He eyed the umbrella. "Since when did you start carrying one of those?"

"It's not mine. I'm going to have to find the owner and give it back." Mia eased herself into her chair, her eyes flitting across the unoccupied desk that butted against Murphy's. "Where's your partner?" she asked. Murphy's partner was Abe's brother Aidan. Mia wasn't looking forward to the censure she knew she'd see in his eyes.

"At the morgue. We pulled a double homicide last night. He won the toss, so I'm calling next of kin." Murphy's eyes abruptly narrowed. "You have company."

Mia turned, a groan catching in her throat when her shoulder burned. Then she forgot all about her shoulder. Striding across the bullpen with a look that would terrify most serial killers was the assistant state's attorney. Abe's wife. Guilt had Mia avoiding Abe's family for two weeks. Now it was time to face the music. Unsteadily she rose and prepared to take what she had coming. "Kristen."

Kristen Reagan raised her brows, her lips tightly pursed. "So you live after all."

The woman had every right to her anger. Kristen could have been a widow had the bullet hit Abe's gut just an inch lower. Mia braced herself. "Just say it."

Kristen said nothing, instead studying her in a way that made Mia want to squirm, bringing back memories of frowning nuns and stinging palms. Finally Kristen sighed. "You dumb ass," she murmured. "What did you think I was going to say?"

Mia's spine straightened at the soft tone. She would have preferred the harsh words she deserved. "I wasn't paying attention. Abe paid the price."

"He said you were ambushed. He didn't see them at first, either."

"My angle was different. I should have seen them. I was…" Preoccupied. "I wasn't paying attention," she repeated stiffly. "I'm sorry."

Kristen's eyes flashed. "You think he blames you? That / blame you?"

"You should. I would." She lifted a shoulder. "I do."

"Then you're an idiot," Kristen snapped. "We were worried, Mia. You disappeared after they sewed you up. We looked everywhere, but we couldn't find you. We thought you'd been hurt, or killed. Abe's been out of his mind worrying about you. And all this time you've been off somewhere sulking, feeling sorry for yourself?"

Mia blinked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She shut her eyes. "Shit."

"You didn't mean for us to worry." Kristen's voice was flat. "Well, we did. Even Spinnelli didn't know where you were until you called last week to say you'd be back this morning. I went by your apartment six times."

Mia opened her eyes, remembering three of those times. "I know."

Kristen's eyes widened. "You know? You were there?"

"Kind of. Yeah." Sitting in the dark sulking. Feeling sorry for herself.

Kristen's brows furrowed. '"Kind of? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The room had quieted and everyone watched them. "Can you keep your voice down?"

"No. I can't. I've sat by Abe's side for two weeks while he waited for you to call. In between morphine drips and surgery, he worried that you'd gone after Getts yourself and were dead in an alley somewhere. So if I'm a little short on patience or sympathy or discretion, then so be it." She stood, her cheeks flushed. "You better show up at his hospital room after your shift. Explain to him what 'kind of means. You owe him that much." She took two steps, then stopped. Slowly she turned, her eyes no longer flashing, but filled with sorrow. "Dammit, Mia. You hurt him. When he found out you were okay and that you just hadn't come to see him, he was so hurt."

Mia swallowed hard. "I'm sorry."

Kristen cocked her jaw. "You should be. He cares about you."

Mia dropped her gaze to her desk. "I'll be there after my shift."

"See that you do." She paused, then cleared her throat. "Mia, look at me, please."

Mia raised her eyes. The anger was gone, concern taking its place. "What?"

Kristen lowered her voice to a mere whisper. "You've had a hard time the last few weeks, what with your dad and all.

Mistakes happen. You're human. And you're still the partner I want watching my husband's back."

Mia watched until Kristen was gone, then sank down into her chair. They thought she was upset about her father's death. If only it were that easy. "Shit."

Murphy's voice was mild. "You're white as a sheet. You should have taken a few more days."

"Looks like I should have done a lot of things," she shot back, then closed her eyes. "Have you seen him?"

"Yeah. He was a mess for the first week or so. Aidan says they're letting him out tomorrow or the next day, so unless you want him to hold it over your head that you didn't visit him, you'd better go tonight. What the hell were you thinking, Mia?"

Mia stared into her very clean coffee cup. "That I fucked up and nearly got my partner killed. Again." Murphy said nothing and Mia looked up, sardonic. "You're not going to tell me it wasn't my fault? This time or last time?"

Murphy pulled a carrot stick from a plastic bag on his desk. "Would it do any good?"

Mia eyed the stack of perfectly cut carrots as Murphy slipped one between his lips. "You're trying to quit again, aren't you?"

He held her eyes for a long moment, not fooled. "Two weeks. Not that I'm counting."

"Good for you." She stood, her legs steady again. "I need to tell Spinnelli I'm back."

"He's in with somebody. But he said he wants to see you right away and you should just come in."