Vivian Johnson stood alone outside a deteriorating apartment complex, the strong breeze whipping back her hair as she stared up at the grubby balconies and dusty awnings, yellow with age. The awning lazily nodded up and down in the wind, as if inherently aware of its disgrace and apologizing.

She looked down at a slip of paper in her hand. 133 Northampton Street. She surveyed the street signs around her. This was the place. Unfolding the photograph Jack had handed her, she readied her badge and made her entrance into the three-story apartment building.

A mustached man reading a dog-eared copy of Maxim shifted his gaze as she tapped on the glass of his office window. When he shifted his eyes, all he saw was her badge.

"Housekeeping," Vivian sang.

- - - - -

The manager led her up a flight of rickety stairs that looked like they hadn't seen a sweeping since the Stone Age. After showing him the photograph, he had unceremoniously guided her to room 303 and just as casually left her to talk shop with Mr. Lewis.

Vivian sighed as he creaked back down the stairs. Apparently, this wasn't the first time the FBI had come to call.

Hoping that Alfonzo Lewis wasn't the gun-carrying type, she knocked loudly on his door. When no answer came, she pounded harder, calling, "Mr. Alfonzo Lewis. Open up please. FBI."

The catcall proved just the inspiration needed. The door cracked open. A mirror image of the photograph stared back at her distrustfully. Scrutinizing the badge, he turned back around. He said a few words to a woman behind him, and he waited until she'd cleared the room to pull open the door.

"Alfonzo Lewis," Vivian greeted.

He looked her up and down. "Yeah. What're you here for?"

"Oh, not too much," Vivian said, replacing her badge. "Just to have little chat about Jordan Coliandri and how she's no longer a resident of Northeast Detention Center."

The door opened all the way, and muttering under his breath, he invited her in.

"Thank you," Vivian said a little more graciously than necessary. She took a seat at his table, which still had coffee rings and crumbs of eggs and toast littering the place settings. Dirty dishes piled by the sink, and the carpet was in even worse shape than their countertops. Vivian smirked. To be honest, it only reminded her of her own house after a round of breakfast madness.

Alfonzo left the room to speak to a haggard-looking woman in the hallway of the small apartment, who was bouncing an infant up and down on her hip.

Vivian strained her ear to listen to their conversation.

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmured to her. "This'll only take a second." The woman glared forward, but after a few irate whispers, she left him alone to discuss business.

Alfonzo returned, running a hand through his unkempt hair. He turned on the overhead kitchen light and took in the scene. "I'd apologize for the mess, but…" He took a seat across from her. "I'm sure you get this all the time. Coffee?"

"No thank you," she said. She spared a glance behind her. "A little trouble in paradise?"

He made a derogatory sound, picked up a cigarette, and lit up. "She's just a little cranky, seeing as how the FBI's on my doorstep," he said bluntly. "I promised no more police after Jamar was born."

Not an ounce of sympathy touched her face. "Says here you've had a little bit of a drug problem."

Alfonzo sneered at her, letting out a breath of smoke. "Yeah, thanks for refreshing my memory."

"Actually, I was hoping you could refresh mine. You've been clean for four months."

"That's right," he quickly declared. He blinked rapidly before regarding Vivian with a frown. "You guys sure do your homework."

Vivian only took his reaction as a compliment. "We at the FBI like to keep ourselves informed. Gotten any temptations recently?"

He made a nasty face. "What?"

"You've been working at Northeast Detention Center for three months. That's long enough to get to know people. Their habits…their connections…A lot of chances to break back into the dope circle."

Bewilderment was followed by anger. "What're you talking about?"

"Jordan Coliandri," Vivian spelled out. "She's escapes free and clear, same night you're on duty."

"Yeah. So what?"

"So, I was just wondering if she had any help relocating."

Alfonzo pointed a finger. "I had nothing to do with that."

"I don't know, Mr. Lewis," Vivian breathed out. "Girl that young, plenty of connections to drug dealers. It's pretty convenient that she goes missing the same night you're working that post."

"It was one night. One night I fall asleep and all hell breaks loose!"

Vivian spoke with mock sympathy. "Aw, you're breaking my heart."

"Hey look, lady." It was official. He'd lost all tolerance, which was exactly what Vivian had wanted. She now paid special attention. The man was infuriated. This was where people began to show their true colors. "If you're trying to pin something on me, just tell it to my face. At least have the common decency to let me get a lawyer before you scare my wife and kid."

Vivian smiled a little and gave a small shrug. "Why would you need a lawyer?"

"Please," he drew out. He crushed his cigarette stub down in disgust before rising from his chair. "You think the media hasn't been here already?"

Now it was Vivian's turn to be confused. That was news to her ears. "Have they now?"

"They came by this morning." He said it smugly, as he found it to be something the agent hadn't known. "Wanted to hear all about her miraculous escape. As if I could tell them anything." He slammed himself back into his chair, repulsed. "I want nothing to do with it. That girl has been the bane of my existence…"

The strong words caused Vivian's brow to furrow. "You care to explain that statement?"

Alfonzo's frown cut deep. "Ever since that girl made her get-away all I've been doing is wishing I'd kept myself awake that night. NYPD's demanding to how she got out of her cage. Northeast fired my ass first thing this morning. The media's breathing down my neck, and now the FBI's here ready to send me back to my defense attorney."

Vivian watched him carefully.

He pointed forward. "I'm back on the bread line thanks to that girl. You think I wouldn't have screamed bloody murder if I saw her get away that night?"

Vivian stepped outside the situation, looking at it now from all perspectives. Alfonzo may have had his trouble with the law. He was a scumbag, who didn't have much a chance to turn a buck in law-abiding society. But that didn't make him Jordan's escape artist.

After asking him a few more questions, she thanked him and apologized for taking up his time. Alfonzo, though less than courteous, did his best to regard her with respect before showing her the door. Vivian left the apartment building and wasted no time getting to her car. She called Jack while she was still on the sidewalk.

"Malone," he answered.

"I just got done talking with Mr. Alfonzo Lewis."

"And?"

"He may have had his run-ins with Johnny Law, but he had nothing to do with Jordan's escape. He's a dead end."