Chapter 21

Monday was clear and cold. McCoy arrived at his office a little after 7:00 and started sorting phone messages. He had been there no more than 15 minutes when he looked up to find Morgan at his door.

"Good morning. I didn't expect you here yet."

She looked more rested than she had on Saturday but she didn't return his smile. "I wanted to get an early start." She stood in front of his desk with her coat still on, holding her briefcase. "Where do you want me to work?"

He sat back in his chair, eyes twinkling. "I'm fine, thank you. And yes, I had a good day off."

Her expression softened. "Sorry," she said, tossing her briefcase on the couch, followed by her jacket, revealing slacks and a matching vest underneath. "I think yesterday was quite possibly the longest day of my life. I couldn't go running and I couldn't work. If this goes on much longer, I'm going to need serious drugs."

He smiled as she plopped onto the sofa. "Legal ones, I hope."

"I'll take what I can get, although what I really need to do is go for a nice long run. I don't suppose my two rather large shadows would appreciate that, though." She looked at him thoughtfully. "Then again, maybe they would enjoy the exercise."

McCoy shook his head, his eyes growing serious. "Absolutely not; it wouldn't be safe. You will have to find another way to deal with your stress."

She sat forward. "Then back to my original question, Jack: Where do you want me to work?"

Smiling at her, he said, "The files we already have are in Abbie's office now. We can work in one of the small conference rooms so we have room to spread out. Abbie isn't here yet, but we could start moving boxes."

Morgan stood up. "Okay. Show me where."

"I wish the people who worked for me were this eager," he commented as he got up. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in a job?"

She glanced at him as he followed her out of the office. "Not on your life. I like being the boss."

Carmichael arrived as Morgan and McCoy were carrying the last boxes of files to the conference room. In a short time, all three were busy searching through files, listing project names and dates, followed by the investors involved in each. Mid-morning the older files from Fairchild's office arrived, but they opted to continue working on the more current ones since they were more than half finished with those.

They worked undisturbed until almost noon, when a knock on the door was followed by a secretary entering. She handed McCoy a slip of paper before leaving.

After reading the note, he stood up. "I need to return this call. Anyone need coffee or anything while I'm up?" At Morgan and Carmichael's 'no thanks', he left for his office.

He returned a few minutes later and laid his briefcase on the table while he put on his coat. "Burt Garber's lawyer wants to meet to discuss a plea," he told Carmichael.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

McCoy picked up his briefcase. "No, I'll handle it. Stay here and work on this. I don't know how long I'll be gone so order me something for lunch when you two are ready. I'll eat when I get back."

At Carmichael's nod and a glance from Morgan, he headed for the door.

***McCoy checked his watch as his stomach grumbled. 2:50. No wonder he was hungry. The elevator doors parted and he started for his office, stopping by the receptionist's desk first.

She handed him three pieces of paper. "Here are your phone messages, Mr. McCoy. And Mr. Schiff left word that he would like to see you in his office as soon as possible."

He nodded and walked down the hallway, pausing at the conference room door to let Morgan and Carmichael know he was back. The files were neatly stacked but neither woman was in sight, so he left his coat and briefcase in his office and continued to Schiff's.

The older man was on the phone when McCoy entered so he sat on the sofa to wait, stretching his legs out and trying to ignore his stomach.

As soon as Schiff had replaced the receiver, McCoy said, "Garber took a plea despite his idiot attorney. I'm sending the paperwork over this afternoon."

Schiff sat back in his chair. "Lt. Van Buren called a little while ago. It seems Ms. Carmichael and Ms. Morgan were in an auto accident on their way back from lunch."

McCoy sat forward, not even daring to breathe.

Schiff held up his hand. "They're all right. The lieutenant sent Detectives Briscoe and Green over to pick them up and bring them back here."

"What happened?" he managed to get out, as he became uncomfortably aware of his increased heart rate.

"According to the officers following the two, someone deliberately hit them. And because the police remained with the women the driver of the car responsible got away."

McCoy took a shaky breath. "And you're sure they're both okay?"

"The lieutenant said the paramedics were checking them over when the officers called in but they both appeared to be fine."

"When did it happen?"

Schiff looked over his glasses at the clock sitting on his desk. "About an hour ago. They should be here soon."

McCoy stood up slowly. "I'll wait for them in my office."

As he was walking out, Schiff added, "Let me know if I can do anything."

He nodded absently. "I will."

Once in his own office McCoy sat in his chair, palms resting flat on his desk, trying to calm his still-pounding heart. The hunger he had felt only moments before had been replaced by a huge knot in his stomach. After a few minutes he looked around his desk for something to keep himself occupied. He had no idea how long it would be until they showed up and he knew he needed to stay busy. Picking up his briefcase, he pulled out his notes on the meeting he had attended and started preparing the necessary forms.

It was easy work. He only had to list the appropriate information and write a few notes for his secretary to type into the blanks on the forms. But it was beyond him. At every sound in the busy hallway, he looked up. It took him twenty minutes to get halfway through the first page.

At the sound of more footsteps, he looked up again and saw Briscoe and Green approaching his door - alone.

"Where are they?" he asked anxiously as the two men entered his office.

"They stopped by the ladies room," Green answered.

"Are they all right?"

"A few bumps and bruises, mainly," Briscoe responded. "Calea got a pretty good bump on the head, but otherwise they're both just a little shaken up."

"What the hell happened?" McCoy demanded. "The men assigned to her were supposed to stick close at all times."

"They did," Green assured him. "If they hadn't been there, nothing would've stopped whoever hit her car from finishing the job. The officers rammed the guy and he took off. But he didn't have any plates and the windows were tinted so no one got a good look at him."

McCoy shook his head in exasperation. "Great."

"Ed is going to drive Abbie home in her car since she's still a little shaky and I'm going to take Calea home, then pick him up," Briscoe explained.

McCoy ran his fingers through his hair. "The two of you take care of Abbie. Calea lives fairly close to me. I'll take her home."

"The medics said she has a slight concussion. She's not supposed to be alone for the next few hours. I was going to wait while she called a friend to come and stay with her."

McCoy nodded. "I'll take care of that." At the sound of familiar voices, he looked up to see Carmichael and Morgan walking together. Turning back to the detectives he added quickly, "I want two people inside Calea's building and someone outside. I also want someone assigned to Abbie. I don't think she's the one they were after but I don't want to take any chances."

The detectives nodded as the women walked in.

He looked quickly from one to the other. They were both quiet under his scrutiny, their eyes solemn. But other than a bandage on Morgan's forehead, they seemed to be unhurt.

"You couldn't just order take-out?" he asked, trying to sound calmer than he felt. "Under the circumstances that would've been the most logical choice."

The two women exchanged glances. "The place we wanted to go to doesn't deliver," Carmichael started.

"I'm the one responsible for deciding to leave," Morgan interrupted. "Abbie tried to talk me out of it. It isn't her fault."

McCoy let out an exasperated sigh. A hundred things came to his mind to say but looking up at her, with the glaring bandage on her head, he couldn't bring himself to say any of them.

"If you don't mind, I'm going to take the rest of the day off," Carmichael said.

He nodded. "Ed and Lennie are going to see you home and arrange protection for you."

Morgan glanced at the detectives, then at McCoy.

Catching her look, he explained, "I told them I would take you home since you live in the same area of town as I do."

She didn't look very happy but she didn't argue.

"Are you ready to leave?" Green asked Carmichael.

She nodded and looked at McCoy. "I'll be here in the morning."

"Make sure the officer stays with you."

Turning to Morgan, Carmichael gave her a slight smile. "Thanks for driving. Sorry about your car."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Abbie," she said quietly.

When the others had gone Morgan glanced hesitantly at McCoy, who was staring at her with serious eyes. "You didn't have to offer to drive me home, Jack. Lennie was going to do that."

"I know, but I wanted to. I have to finish up a little paperwork then we can leave." He motioned to the couch behind her. "Why don't you sit down."

Morgan did as he said, tucking one leg under the other.

McCoy went to work on the forms still spread on his desk. He worked quickly, looking up only once. The sight of Morgan, leaning her elbow on the back of the couch to prop her head up, was enough to make him finish in record time.

"I'm going to let Adam know I'm leaving," he said, clipping the papers together with his notes. "I'll be right back."

When he returned, Morgan sat up straighter at the sound of his footsteps. He was carrying her briefcase, which he had retrieved from the conference room. Setting it beside her, he took his coat from the small rack of clothes and put it on. When he turned around she was standing in front of the sofa, biting her lip and pressing her fingers to her temple.

"Are you all right?" he asked, moving to stand in front of her.

She opened her eyes. "Yes."

He searched her eyes carefully. "Are you sure?"

"For obvious reasons, I have a headache, Jack. Can we leave now?"

McCoy nodded. "Come on. Let's get you home."

***He was nervous leaving the building. Even after they had merged with traffic he kept checking his rearview mirror, making sure the unmarked police car was behind, and watching the cars around them carefully. It wasn't until they were halfway to their destination that he began to feel slightly more at ease.

McCoy glanced over at Morgan, who had been silent since they left his office.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Morgan sighed. "There isn't much to tell. We waited with lunch until we finished the files we took from Abbie's office, thinking you would return. When we finally left, I made sure the officers knew where we were going in case we got separated in traffic. On our way back, a car that had been driving beside us suddenly swerved into us. The officers saw it, hit the guy from behind, and he took off. I think I bumped my head against the window. I know I didn't get a good look at the other driver." She glanced at him. "Your lunch is all over the back floor of my car. Sorry."

He gave her a stern look but she seemed perfectly serious.

"Did you stop by your office this morning?"

"Yes."

"My guess is someone followed you from there and waited for your car."

"Well, they won't be following it anymore for a while. It had to be towed. I'm sure it will be in the shop for at least several days. I'll have to take a cab or ride with the officers tomorrow."

He decided he might as well get what was sure to be an argument over with.

"You can't stay alone tonight."

She leaned back against the headrest. "With the police right outside my door, I don't think there's anything to worry about."

McCoy shook his head. "I'm not talking about that. You have a head injury. I know the paramedics told you to make sure someone was with you for the next few hours. There are things to watch for in order to be certain it isn't more serious than it looks. Briscoe said he was going to wait until you called a friend." He paused a second. "Were you really going to call someone?"

Morgan looked out of the window. "It's bad enough that because of me Abbie was hurt today. I'm not going to risk anyone else's safety by getting them involved."

It was the first time she had even hinted that there might be a danger to herself. McCoy wondered if she was more concerned than she was letting on.

He said matter-of-factly, "Then that leaves me. I'll stay with you."

"The same applies to you," she told him quietly.

He looked over at her. "I'm already involved but I don't think my safety is at risk."

She sounded tired. "I don't need a baby-sitter."

"No, but you do need a friend. Or a hospital." At her quick look, he added as calmly as possible, "I'm not giving you a choice on this. The only choice you do have is whether you sleep on my sofa or I sleep on yours. And given the security at your building, I would prefer to sleep on yours."

"I don't need anyone to stay with me, Jack, and my head hurts too bad to fight about it."

His tone of voice left no room for argument. "Then it's settled. We'll stop by my apartment on the way to yours so I can pick up a change of clothes."

He glanced at Morgan to find her regarding him with an annoyed frown. "Do you always get your way?"

Without so much as a hint of a smile he replied, "I do my best."

After pulling in front of his building, McCoy got out and informed the officers behind them of his intentions. They stood on the sidewalk next to his car while he went inside. He quickly gathered clothes and toiletries and returned, then continued to her building.

Deciding it was safer to park in Morgan's parking space and enter the building from the upper level, McCoy drove into the garage through the tenant gate. The officers spoke briefly with the security guard and were allowed access as well, following McCoy's car up to park. They escorted the two inside the building, leaving them at the elevator that continued to the sixth floor.

Once they were safely inside Morgan's apartment, McCoy let out a relieved sigh. After first helping her off with her coat, he hung his with it on the pegs beside the elevator.

"You can hang your things in the closet through the bathroom," she informed him, still sounding annoyed. "I need to check my messages. The repair shop was supposed to let me know how badly my car was damaged."

McCoy left a small tote bag in the bathroom and opened the closet door to hang his clothes. The first thing to catch his eye was a bolted door against the far wall. A washer, dryer, and bike stood against the wall to his right. Rows of neatly hung clothes lined the one to his left.

He found a clear space and hung his suit and dress shirt, then pulled a pair of jeans off their hanger. He changed quickly and hung his slacks on the empty hanger, leaving his shoes underneath.

Seeing she was still on the phone when he came out of the bathroom, he went to the kitchen and helped himself to a Scotch.

When she finally joined him, he indicated the glass. "I hope you don't mind."

Retrieving a water bottle she said, "I don't. Since you insist on staying, you may as well make yourself at home." She stood on the opposite side of the bar from him. "I don't suppose you had lunch somewhere along the way."

He shook his head. "Somewhere along the way I lost my appetite."

Morgan looked at the floor and he wished he hadn't made the comment.

"I made lasagna and breadsticks yesterday. If it's all right with you, we can have that for dinner."

"Sounds good," he agreed, "on one condition: You tell me what to do and then sit down and take it easy. As you know, I’m perfectly capable of making dinner."

She studied him for a moment before nodding slowly. "The pan of lasagna is in the refrigerator. It only needs to be baked long enough to heat through. The breadsticks are in the pantry. They can be added to the oven later. And there's a vegetable salad already made up."

"I think I can handle that."

"Okay. I could really use a hot shower." She placed the water bottle on the bar. "If you can't find something you need, let me know."

"I'll manage," he assured her as she turned and walked away.

By the time Morgan emerged from the bathroom, McCoy had the lasagna baking and the breadsticks wrapped in foil waiting on top of the stove. Two place settings were neatly laid out on the bar. He turned around to find her standing quietly, wearing dark red sweats and white socks. The bandage was gone and he noticed with some alarm how large the bruise and lump on her forehead really were. A cut in the middle, about an inch long, was held together with a small butterfly bandage.

"Come and sit down," he said, trying not to sound too worried.

Doing as she was told, she reached for her water.

After placing the wrapped bread in the oven, McCoy stood beside the bar. "Can I get you anything? If you tell me where it is, I can make you some tea."

"That's okay. I'll stick to water tonight."

"Everything is almost ready," he informed her, turning to take potholders from the drawer he had seen her put them in on his first visit. He also took out the salad and placed it beside her. Within a short time everything was arranged on the bar.

Morgan took small servings of everything. Despite the fact that he hadn't eaten since breakfast, McCoy found he wasn't all that hungry himself. After he complimented her on the food, he watched her carefully as she mostly picked at hers.

Catching his eyes on her for the third time, she laid her fork down and took another drink of water. She studied the bottle, turning it around in her hands. "You know, you keep looking at me like you're waiting for me to fall apart. I think I should tell you that isn't going to happen."

McCoy looked down for a minute. "I'm not waiting for you to fall apart, Calea." He pushed his half-empty plate forward and leaned on his arms, avoiding her eyes. "But I am having a difficult time dealing with everything that's happened today. It's brought back a lot of memories I'd just as soon forget." He reached for his drink. "I guess I didn't really believe you and Abbie were all right this afternoon until I saw you walk into my office."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It isn't your fault." He regarded her for a moment. "But I do seem to remember you telling me you were going to be more careful."

"And I thought I was. What you don't understand is that I'm careful all the time. I can't afford not to be. I'm a woman living alone in New York City." She pushed her plate away impatiently. "When was the last time you got out of a cab two blocks into the ride because the driver made you uncomfortable? I take precautions every day that I'm sure never even cross your mind. I paid the man who had the parking space by the door in the garage a small fortune to trade with me. I live in an apartment that has only one access..."

"Two," he interrupted. "I saw the door in the closet, which I assume leads to the roof."

"Yes, it does. But it's a fire exit. It can't be opened from the outside," she explained. "I only have a cell phone in here, I don't even have regular phone service. All my bills go to my office. The only mail I get here is addressed to 'occupant'. I never give my address or home phone number to clients or anyone else that I don't know extremely well." She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. "But there is a fine line between caution and paranoia. I can't live being afraid of my own shadow."

He shook his head. "You have to admit that things changed today. You were convinced that whoever threatened you wouldn't carry out those threats. Surely you now realize you were wrong about that."

Morgan pulled the hairband out of her still-damp hair and ran her fingers through it. "What do you want from me, Jack? Do you want to hear me say I was scared?" She replaced the hairband and leaned forward. "I'll admit it; I was scared. I didn't think the police were going to be able to help us in time. When I looked up at the car after it hit us, I realized how easy it would be for the person driving to..." She let the thought trail off as she looked down. When she looked back up, her voice was quiet. "But he didn't really hurt us. This was just one more warning like all the rest."

McCoy's eyes settled on the prominent bruise. "If he didn't hurt you, that's the best imitation I've ever seen."

Ignoring the comment, she said, "All this means is that we're close to the answers we've been looking for. And even if we don't know exactly what we are looking for, someone does and they're worried."

He grew thoughtful for a minute. "I'm going to have Adam reassign any pressing cases. I want to spend the next few days focusing on this investigation. It's time to figure this mess out and bring an end to it."

"You won't get an argument out of me about that." Morgan pressed her fingers to her temples. "Now do you mind if we don't talk about it anymore?"

"Does your head hurt?" he asked sympathetically.

She sat up a little straighter. "Not really."

He could tell that she was lying. "I'll get you some aspirin if you tell me where it is."

"I'll take something before bed. I don't usually take medication so it doesn't take much to knock me out. Two aspirin will do it."

"Don't feel like you need to stay up and entertain me. Whenever you want to go to bed, do so. I'll read or watch the news. That's how I spend most of my evenings."

She looked at him hesitantly. "Look, Jack, it's been hours since the accident and although I appreciate your concern, I'm obviously all right. You really don't need to stay here tonight."

"Someone does, Calea," he insisted. "A concussion is nothing to take lightly. And you have to let me know if you wake up in the night with a severe headache or if you feel nauseous."

"Is that personal experience talking or do you have a medical degree I'm not aware of?"

He caught the annoyance in her mild sarcasm. "Personal experience," he smiled slightly. "If you're finished, why don't you go rest. I'll put things away."

After McCoy had cleaned the kitchen and put away the food, he poured himself a second drink. He then joined Morgan on the sofa where she was wrapped in a blanket, watching television. As soon as he was settled she handed him the remote control, insisting he choose what to watch. He tried to choose something light, but even at that he had a difficult time concentrating on the program. His thoughts kept turning to the events of the day as he glanced occasionally at Morgan, who seemed equally distracted. They watched the news and when it was over Morgan disappeared into the bathroom. When she returned she had changed into a long-sleeved tee-shirt and flannel boxers and was carrying sheets, a blanket, and a pillow.

Dropping them over the back of the couch, she said, "You get the bed. I'm shorter and I'm used to sleeping on the sofa."

He stood up and picked up a sheet. "I won't even consider it. You need a good night's sleep. And your sofa is huge. I sleep on mine all the time and it's a lot smaller." He picked up the other bedding and placed it on the coffee table while he began to tuck the edge of the sheet under the cushions.

Morgan watched him for a minute before asking, "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he answered, continuing with the second sheet.

"You're welcome to watch TV or read as long as you like. It won't bother me."

"Okay," he agreed casually, hoping to relieve some of the awkwardness she seemed to be feeling.

She began to walk across the room and stopped. "There's a coffee maker and coffee in the pantry. Help yourself in the morning."

"Thanks. Good night, Calea."

"Good night," she said as she continued toward the bed behind the curtain.

McCoy deposited his empty glass in the kitchen sink and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he was finished he left the night-light inside the bathroom door on, as he had found it. He wasn't sure if it was the stress of the day or the two Scotch's on a mostly empty stomach, but he felt unusually tired as he returned to sink wearily onto the couch. After a short time he turned off the television, took off his jeans and shirt, laid his monogrammed ring on the coffee table, and slid under the covers. He lay with his feet toward the windows, which glowed from the streetlights below. The rest of the apartment seemed dark and very quiet. He could hear no sound from the bed and wondered if Morgan was already asleep. He sighed deeply and was asleep himself within minutes.

***When he opened his eyes he immediately knew where he was and what had awakened him. He listened for only a second before sitting up and reaching for his jeans. He put them on quickly and picked up his shirt before starting toward the curtain.

As he stepped through the opening beside the windows, he could see Morgan moving. He hesitated only long enough to pull on his shirt before approaching the bed. Her breath was coming in quick, short bursts as she moved continuously, trying to kick free of the blankets twisted around her legs.

McCoy sat on the edge of the bed. "Calea," he called softly, but she continued her struggle within the nightmare. He reached for her shoulder and squeezed it slightly. "Calea, wake up!"

When she still didn't awaken, he wasn't exactly sure what to do given her reaction the last time he had found himself in the same situation. But in the dim light coming from the bathroom, he was dismayed to see the sparkle of wetness on her face as she turned in her sleep. He brushed her cheek with his fingers, drying the tears and trying to wake her. Finally, not knowing what else to do, he took her by the shoulders and pulled her to him.

He heard a sharp intake of breath as she woke, and suddenly she was no longer struggling against the opponent of her dream. In a flurry of movement, she was struggling against him, and she was a lot stronger than her size would indicate.

"Calea, it's okay. Don't fight!" he admonished, trying just to hold on to her. With some difficulty he managed to reach around her back and take hold of her opposite elbow, effectively pinning both arms to her sides in the process. With his other arm he encircled her shoulders.

"It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you!" he assured her. "I just want to hold you."

Even though every muscle in her body was tensed to the point of shaking, she stopped struggling. He was holding her so tightly, he could feel her heart pounding against his chest.

"Don't be afraid. You're all right now," he said soothingly.

She was still tensed, but as her breathing began to sound a little more regular McCoy cautiously eased his grip on her elbow. When she didn't move, he released her arm and moved his hand up to stroke her soft hair. "Just relax. It was only a bad dream."

After a few seconds Morgan turned her head to the side and he could feel a little of the tension in her shoulders ease. He brushed her hair from her face, then carefully pulled her head toward him until her cheek rested against his chest. She didn't resist, and with his shirt unbuttoned he could feel her warm skin against his own.

She was still shaking as he continued to smooth her hair back. In the process, his fingers grazed the lump on her forehead. Morgan reacted immediately, jerking her head back from his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly, laying his palm flat against her cheek. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

To McCoy’s relief he felt her relax a little, although the trembling didn't stop. He gradually became aware of the way she felt in his arms and would have been perfectly content to remain as he was for the rest of the night. But after a few more minutes, she pulled away from him. Not wanting to loose all contact with her, he let his hand slide from her shoulder, down her arm, to take her hand in his.

"Okay?"

Morgan nodded without looking at him.

"That was some dream," he observed.

She looked up at him but in the semi-darkness he couldn't read her expression. "I'm sorry I woke you." Her voice was soft.

"I'm not." He reached slowly to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. She watched his hand cautiously but didn't react, allowing him to do so. "I'm glad I was here. I wish I could've stopped it, but I guess after the last few days you're entitled to a nightmare or two."

She looked down again, avoiding his eyes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked quietly.

"No," she answered quickly, as she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Okay. You don't have to." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "How do you feel? Does your head hurt?"

"Not too bad."

He could see that she was still shaking and was reluctant to leave her. But when she grew quiet, he knew he should get up.

"You should try to go back to sleep."

She nodded. "I will. And you should do the same."

Finally releasing her hand, he stood. "Call me if you need me."

She began to straighten the covers. "Thanks."

McCoy made his way back to the sofa and undressed. He laid back and tried to relax but he was wide awake. Several minutes had passed when a muffled sound caught his attention. He listened intently in the dark, breathing shallowly. At another faint sound, he sat up and looked toward the bed.

The bed was empty. Morgan had gotten up to move the rocking chair from the corner to a point farther down the wall, in front of the windows. And she was sitting, hugging her knees and staring out at the city.

He slowly laid back and sighed, fighting the urge to go to her and gather her in his arms, as he had wanted to on the night she had spent in his apartment. Thinking about how it had felt to hold her, he eventually fell asleep, feeling as lonely as she had looked.

***McCoy woke up early the next morning, turning to look out at the faintly lit sky. After a few minutes he sat up. He could see Morgan's small figure under the covers of the bed. Putting on only his jeans, he picked up his shirt and walked soundlessly to the bathroom.

Once he had showered, shaved, and dressed, he opened the door cautiously. Morgan was still asleep, and by that time there was enough light coming in the windows to see his way to the kitchen. Turning on only the light above the stove, he went to work making coffee as quietly as possible. While it was brewing he folded the sheets and blanket that had made up his bed.

Putting on his ring, he was wondering if and where Morgan got a newspaper when the phone inside the desk rang. Turning to see her stirring under the covers, he started across the room.

Morgan sat up and let out an audible groan as she held her head.

"Stay there. I'll bring it to you." He reached the desk and turned on the lamp sitting on top. Pulling up the roll-top, he picked up the phone and took it to Morgan who had moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Thanks," she said, taking the phone from him and answering it with a simple, "Hello."

McCoy was turning to walk away when her expression stopped him. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her mouth open in surprise. Seeing the fear in her eyes he reached to take the phone back from her. She gave it up immediately.

He held it to his ear and heard an insistent male voice saying, "And what does it take for you to get the hint? Spending the day in the D.A.'s office is not what you're supposed to be doing unless you're trying to work out a plea agreement. And you're obviously not doing that, since the police investigation hasn't stopped."

McCoy took a breath and opened his mouth, intending to let the caller know to whom he was actually speaking. But he realized that revealing himself could put Morgan in further danger, so he clenched his teeth and listened silently.

"Since you're supposed to be such a good lawyer, put some of that persuasion to work on your client. Convince him it's in his best interest to take the fall. You can always promise to work on an appeal. Just do as you're told and no one else will get hurt. Otherwise, what happened to Leslie Fairchild and what happened to you yesterday was nothing compared to what's going to happen."

The line went dead as the caller hung up. McCoy turned and stalked angrily back to the desk.

"If he could get this number, he can find out where you live if he hasn't already done so, no matter how careful you've been. It isn't safe for you to stay here anymore. Until we find out who this S.O.B. is or who he's working for, I don't want you here or at your office or anywhere else you normally go. And I want to take this phone in and have the police try to trace the number the call came from."

He came to stand in front of her again. The sight of her looking at him with frightened eyes made him realize he had practically been barking at her. His tone and expression softened as he reached to touch her shoulder.

"I want you to get some things together. We'll put you up in a hotel for a few days. While you get dressed, I'll make some calls and arrange it. Then I'll take you to my office if you're up to helping out today or I'll take you to the hotel."

Morgan nodded and stood up. Her hand flew to her head and she stifled another groan. McCoy caught her by the shoulders as she wavered a bit.

"Easy," he admonished. "Take it slow. You might be dizzy for a while."

She stepped out of his range. "I'm all right. I'll be ready in a few minutes."

As soon as the bathroom door closed, McCoy picked up the phone.

***"Are you sure you're up to working today?" McCoy asked as he glanced over his shoulder and then changed lanes. "Maybe you should take the day off. I'm sure you could've used more sleep, and that wasn't the most pleasant way to wake up this morning."

Her answer was quiet. "I already told you, I'm fine."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind later." She had seemed ill at ease with him all morning and he wondered if it was because of the phone call or if it had to do with him personally.

They arrived at the office behind Carmichael. After a brief discussion, the two D.A.'s went to work running the names of investors through the computer, checking their financial records for any large withdrawals or deposits made in the weeks before and immediately after Carpelli was killed. Morgan started sorting through the boxes of older files.

At noon the three gathered in the conference room and talked about what they had discovered to that point while they ate lunch. Morgan mostly listened as the other two related their findings. The small white bandage in the middle of the darkening bruise on her forehead was a stark reminder of the previous day's events.

After lunch Carmichael went back to running computer checks on the last of the investors they had so far listed, while McCoy joined Morgan in pulling names from the older accounts. He had found the names of three investors in the fourth file he picked up and read them aloud as he added them to his list. He had already jotted down the other needed information and moved on to the next file when Morgan asked, "May I see the last file?" She held her hand out and he passed it to her. She studied the papers, frowning slightly as she bit her lip.

After several minutes McCoy asked, "Do you recognize any of the names?"

She looked up at him blankly, almost as if she had forgotten he was there. Holding the folder out to him, she shook her head. "I thought I did, but I guess I was wrong." She returned to her own list and McCoy continued with the next file.

Carmichael came in to collect more names mid-afternoon and, at Morgan's insistence, took McCoy's list first. But like all the others, those names didn't reveal any useful information either.

They worked well into the evening until McCoy suggested they call it a day. He and Morgan left Carmichael at her car before continuing to his, making sure the assigned police officers were in place.

On the way to the hotel McCoy looked over at Morgan. "Would you like to stop and pick up something to eat?"

"Thanks, but I think I'll order something later when I get settled in. I'm pretty tired tonight."

"You should've told me. We could've left earlier."

"That's okay, I wanted to keep working. We accomplished a lot today and we should be able to finish with all of the files tomorrow."

McCoy sighed in frustration. "But we're still not any closer to finding answers than we were when we started."

Morgan was quiet for several seconds before saying, "Something will turn up."

When they arrived at the hotel the police escort took them straight up to a room, checking it carefully before leaving them alone.

McCoy put Morgan's suitcase on the folding luggage rack and left the only other bag she had brought on the bed. Looking around the room he pictured her waking up alone in the night. As his eyes settled on her, he pushed the thought out of his mind.

She set her briefcase on a small desk. "Thanks for arranging everything and for bringing me here. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. If you need anything, there will be an officer right outside the door and another one down the hall by the elevators. Don't open the door for anyone else." He paused a second before adding, "And you know you can always call me, anytime. Even if it's the middle of the night, I won't mind."

Morgan slipped her hands into her pockets. "I'll be all right, Jack. There's no need to be concerned."

McCoy didn't necessarily agree but he didn't argue. "I'll come by in the morning and pick you up. Make sure you lock the door when I leave."

"I will," she assured him. "But I'll ride with the officers in the morning and meet you at your office. This isn't exactly on your way."

McCoy walked to the door. "All right. Good night, Calea."

"Good night."

When he closed the door behind him, he waited until he heard the click of the deadbolt before walking away.