Chapter 25

McCoy replaced the receiver on his phone and leaned an elbow on his desk, covering his eyes with his hand. The satisfaction he had felt earlier in the day at having gotten Tyler held without bail and their evidence admitted was gone. He was glad Morgan had been in a meeting when he had called earlier. At least he wouldn't have to disappoint her after having gotten her hopes up. Now when she returned his call all he would have for her was the bad news.

He slammed his hand down on his desk in frustration, then got up and made his way to Carmichael's office. Slumping in the armchair across from her desk, he waited as she finished up a phone conversation.

"You don't look too happy," she noted, hanging up the phone. "What's wrong?"

"I just got off the phone with Drew Compton. One of Parker's associates visited the D.A.'s office there with the allegations against Calea not even an hour after the motion hearing. He's convinced one of the other D.A.'s to investigate. Compton talked him into keeping it under wraps for a couple of days until we see if we can persuade the other partners to turn on Tyler."

"Do you think we can with what we have?"

"No, I don't. There's no benefit to them. If their tactic works our evidence against all of them may still be excluded unless Calea testifies. She says she's willing to do so but as much as I want to make the case against Tyler, I don't want to do it at her expense. There's no way to prove that what she says about the money is true. And she's right about one thing. If it's her word against the four of them and she's prosecuted on conspiracy charges, she will most likely lose."

Carmichael gave him a surprised look. "Gee, that's the first time I've ever heard you pass up the opportunity to make your case, no matter what the cost." At McCoy's dark look she asked, "So what are we going to do?"

"Compton proposed we give him until the end of tomorrow to see if he can get us something we can use to claim inevitable discovery. That might get Calea off the hook, and if we can show the three partners that we're going to get the evidence in no matter what, they may be more compliant."

"I could also call Briscoe and Green and ask them to make a concentrated effort to find Latham's connection to Tyler. If it's pretty clear-cut that could help us."

McCoy brightened slightly at her suggestion. "That would be good. Be sure and let them know we're on a time crunch here."

Carmichael glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's almost 6:30, Jack. Why don't you go home? Once I call the detectives, there isn't much more we can do tonight."

He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "I left a message for Calea earlier. She hasn't returned my call yet. I need to tell her what's going on."

"I'll take care of that. Go home and get some rest. We'll start again in the morning."

He regarded her thoughtfully. He knew he should be the one to tell Morgan about what had happened in Chicago. But given their last conversation he wasn't looking forward to being the bearer of bad news again. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Go."

Standing up, he walked slowly to the door, looking at the floor. Turning back to face her he said, "Thanks. Tell her she can call me at home if she wants to. I'll see you in the morning."

By the time he reached his office he had convinced himself that Morgan would probably rather hear the news from Carmichael anyway.

While he was bringing a little order to his desk before leaving, Schiff appeared at his door.

Looking up McCoy commented, "You're here late."

Taking a seat on the couch, the older man nodded. "I was having a discussion with the governor. He can be a bit long-winded. Probably why he won the election." Crossing his leg over his knee, he asked, "How's your case against Tyler coming?"

"Not so good. His attorneys have talked someone in the Chicago D.A.'s office into investigating Calea Morgan for taking the file from his home and for conspiracy."

"And is she guilty?"

McCoy gave him a surprised look. "I told you how the conspiracy allegations got started. She took the money thinking Tyler was behind it because he was having an affair and she didn't bring it up in their divorce."

"I know what you told me. But is it the truth?"

Crossing his arms, he stared at Schiff. "Of course it's the truth."

"Is that Jack McCoy, the E.A.D.A. speaking, or is it Jack McCoy, the man who looked into the beautiful blue eyes?"

Shaking his head, McCoy insisted, "There's nothing wrong with my judgement. After all, Tyler is now married to his former secretary. I believe what Calea told me is the truth."

"No one accepts that kind of money without asking 'why', Jack. She was an attorney. Given the circumstances at the time, the question should've crossed her mind. And maybe it did. Maybe she's just convinced herself and you that her motives for taking it were innocent. How can you know what the woman was thinking four years ago?"

"I have no doubt that she was upset. She had unsuccessfully tried to prevent her business partners from becoming involved with someone who had mob connections, she had left her husband over it, and then found out he had been in bed with someone she knew. Who could think rationally under those circumstances?" McCoy gave him a challenging look. "You talked with her. Does she seem like the kind of person who would deceive you?"

Schiff regarded him calmly. "You've talked with her a lot more. Does she seem like the kind of person who would become so irrational that she would take a large sum of money without a second thought?"

McCoy turned his chair so that he could see out of the window. Then, looking at Schiff levelly, he said, "I know what I know. She isn't lying."

"Can you prove it?"

Looking down at his hands he answered quietly, "I don't know."

Schiff stood up. "Make the case, Jack. If she has to testify against Tyler to get your evidence in, let her do it. Don't let him get off because you think this woman isn't capable of doing something that four men, who worked with her for sixteen years, think she did."

When he had gone McCoy looked at his still-messy desk. Standing up abruptly, he grabbed his coat and left everything as it was. Walking down the hallway he considered stopping to ask Carmichael if Morgan had called. But he didn't really want to know; he just wanted to get out of the building.

When he stepped out into the parking garage, the swishing sound of tires on wet pavement drifted up from the street. He wished he had ridden his motorcycle to work. He would have welcomed the cold rain pelting him.

***Carmichael walked into McCoy's office and said, "Briscoe called. They talked with a guy who says a couple of men from Chicago were looking for someone to do some work for them only two days before the gun appeared in Fairchild's apartment. Latham's name was mentioned in the conversation as a possible candidate for hire."

"Did they get the names of the men?"

"First names only."

McCoy leaned forward. "Did you impress upon them that we're running out of time?"

"They're working as fast as they can, Jack, but this all took place almost three months ago. The trail is cold. But they did find out one more thing about the two men from Chicago. Their descriptions fit the ones given by Calea and Mrs. Fairchild after she was shot. Briscoe said their pictures don't match anything in the New York or the federal files so he faxed the composites to Chicago. Even if they are not in the system there, maybe someone will recognize them. He's having copies sent to every precinct in the greater Chicago area."

"It would've been nice to have all of this two weeks ago," he complained. "As it is, even if we find out who these two men are it will take time to find them and connect them to Tyler. We have only one more day before the Chicago D.A. wants Calea for questioning. Once she's outside of our jurisdiction there will be little we can do to help her."

"Briscoe said they're going to keep working on it and call back this afternoon. Maybe Drew will have something for us by then, too."

"Maybe," McCoy agreed unconvincingly. "Either way, tomorrow I'm going to meet with Lockhardt, Ryan, and Greenberg to show them all the other evidence we have against them and explain Calea's reason for taking the money. I doubt that it will do any good but it's the only shot we have. In the mean time I'm going to continue going through the information on the disk Calea gave us. Maybe I can find something that will help us. Let me know if you hear from Briscoe."

Carmichael nodded and headed for the door. "And let me know if you hear from Drew."

***McCoy let the phone ring three times before he scooted his chair from the computer back to his desk.

He snatched it in the middle of the fourth ring.

"Mr. McCoy, this is Peter Fairchild. I would like to set up a meeting to talk with you, alone."

He hesitated for a second, caught by surprise. "By alone, do you mean without your attorney?"

"Yes."

Leaning back in his chair he said, "Although our investigation into your partner's murder has led us in other directions, Mr. Fairchild, I have to remind you that the charges against you are still pending. Anything you tell me could result in your being implicated as a co-conspirator. I'm obligated to advise you to have your attorney present for any meeting between the two of us."

"I'm aware of my right to counsel," Fairchild assured him. "But considering the fact that my attorney is the subject I would like to discuss, I'd rather speak with you alone."

"All right," McCoy agreed slowly. "When would you like to meet?"

"Are you free for lunch?"

He glanced at his watch. "Yes, I am."

***McCoy shifted uncomfortably in the comfortable chair. The few bites of lunch he had managed to get down were sitting in his stomach like a rock. He sighed and leaned his head back until it touched the wall behind him. It seemed as if he had been waiting for hours instead of the ten minutes or so since he had arrived - not that he was in a hurry to face his next task.

He heard her voice before she came into his line of sight.

"I think we should be able to have some answers for you next week, Mr. Gonzales. My receptionist..." Morgan paused mid-sentence on seeing him waiting, completely losing her train of thought.

After a few seconds she turned to the puzzled man standing beside her and said, "I'm sorry. Melissa, please make an appointment for Mr. Gonzales to come in whatever day is convenient for him next week." She added more quietly, "And please hold my calls for a while." Turning back to the man, she shook his hand. "Thank you for coming in. Feel free to call me if you have any further questions before your appointment."

As the receptionist took over her client, Morgan gave McCoy an almost imperceptible nod. He stood up and made his way slowly toward her. As he followed her down the hallway the knot in his stomach seemed to double in size.

"Tony, could you give us minute," Morgan suggested as she stepped into her office. "You can take Mr. Gonzales' file with you. Look up the legal description on the property in question and then make a note of any restrictions attached to the deed."

Alvarez gathered an arm full of papers and got up from a chair beside Morgan's desk. He walked toward the door, stopping to hold out his free hand. "It's good to see you again, Mr. McCoy."

Shaking the young man's hand, McCoy nodded. "You too, Tony."

As Alvarez closed the door behind him Morgan indicated a chair across from her desk.

"Before I had Melissa make the appointment maybe I should have asked you if I was still going to have a license to practice law next week." Her tone was light but her eyes were serious as she sat down behind her desk.

Taking the offered chair McCoy told her, "I'm not here to tell you your license is being suspended."

"Mr. Gonzales will be glad to hear that." Watching him closely she asked, "So exactly why are you here?"

"I need your help," he admitted simply.

Morgan folded her arms and leaned on the desk. "I thought I made myself clear about that on Monday, Jack." She bit her lip and then asked reluctantly, "What do you need my help with?"

He looked at the floor for a moment, avoiding her intense eyes. "You told me you originally thought your ex-husband was responsible for the large by-out amount because he was grateful that you didn't expose his affair."

"And something has made you doubt what I said." It wasn't a question.

"Peter Fairchild called me this morning."

A frown crossed her face. "He called you?"

"Yes. It was his idea," he assured her. "He wanted to meet. I just came from talking with him."

She sat back slowly in her chair, her expression guarded. "What did he want to talk about?"

In that moment, he knew she suspected what his answer was going to be.

"He seems to think Tyler had a different reason for convincing the other partners to pay you."

She looked down at her desk. "And what would that reason be?"

McCoy was sure now that she knew, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"He told me what Tyler did to you, Calea." He paused, watching her carefully. "Why didn't you turn him in?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him angrily. "Peter knows nothing about what happened and he had no right discussing my personal life with you. It's totally irrelevant to this case."

His voice was still quiet. "You didn't answer my question."

She turned her chair slightly to the side, looking out of the window. Even though he could no longer see her face it was obvious to McCoy that she was struggling for words. "He didn't mean to..." she started, then stopped. Getting up abruptly she went to stand at the window with her back to him. "Things just got out of hand. He was very angry with me. It had never been like that before."

"Before?" The realization of what that one word implicated slowly sank in. He closed his eyes for a second and the knot in his stomach tightened. "That wasn't the first time he hit you."

"No."

It shouldn't have been a surprise. If he had been thinking objectively it wouldn't have been. He knew enough about spousal abuse to know that it was rarely a one-time offense.

He had to know. "For how long?"

Morgan put her hands into her pockets, still staring out of the window. "It started a couple of years after we were married."

Behind her, McCoy's mouth dropped open. All of the tension, all of the dread, and all of the mixed emotions about his own family life that had been dredged up turned into sudden anger. He stood up and walked quickly around her desk, stopping a couple of feet from her. "You were married for fourteen years!" he declared incredulously. "Why the hell didn't you leave sooner?"

When she turned to him, his own anger was mirrored in her eyes. "I'm not on the witness stand, Counselor. I don't have to answer your questions."

It was his turn to stare out of the window. As quickly as he had felt it, the anger was gone. After a few seconds he turned to look at her as she stared at him defiantly. But behind the anger was another look that he was all too familiar with.

"I'm not asking as a D.A. I'm asking as a friend."

Morgan blinked, looking at him as if she didn't know what to think of his sudden change of direction. The anger slowly disappeared from her eyes.

She walked the few steps to her chair to sit down. Her voice was flat. "I can't answer your question, although I've asked myself the same thing a thousand times."

He moved to the chair beside her desk and sat down facing her.

Staring at the floor she continued, "I don't know why I didn't leave and I don't know how I even let it get started." She looked up at him and her expression had changed. Her eyes were as cold as her voice. "I only know that I will never let myself get into the same situation again. It is the number one rule in my life."

In those few words, she answered so many of the questions he had wanted to ask for so long.

McCoy swallowed hard. "Most men don't hit women, Calea," he said softly.

She gave him a hint of a smile that didn't even begin to reach her eyes. "I don't doubt that's true, Jack. It just hasn't been my personal experience."

He felt exactly the same way he had when she had come to his apartment, after she had the nightmare - when she thought he was going to hit her.

Turning her chair forward, Morgan reminded him, "You still haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"

He sighed heavily. "What Tyler did to you goes a long way in explaining why you took the money without any questions. If we inform the other partners of the reason, it may convince them that Tyler lied to them from the start."

She shook her head slowly. "Even assuming I was willing to tell them it would still be my word against Frank's. They have no reason to believe I'm telling the truth."

"If we offered them proof they would have to believe you."

"There is no proof," she insisted. "I never admitted to anyone what Frank did, not even to Peter. He came to his own conclusions. The only other person who found out what had happened was Drew Compton and he heard it from Peter. There weren't any witnesses. I can't prove anything."

"Compton knew?" he asked sharply, his anger quickly returning. "Why didn't he have Tyler picked up?"

Morgan closed her eyes and sighed. "That's beside the point, Jack. If it comes down to my word against Frank's the others are going to believe him."

"Peter said you went to the hospital. We can get those records."

"You don't understand. I was very careful because I didn’t want anyone to find out. I drove my car to a parking lot then took a cab to a hospital across town from where we lived. I used a false name and address when I got there, and I paid in cash. I didn't give out any information that could be used to trace me. Even if the medical record still exists, it isn't going to help either."

"Maybe not. But I'd like to have your permission to try."

She shrugged. "You're a D.A. I have no doubt the Chicago D.A.'s office will give you whatever is necessary to exercise your authority there as well. You don't need my permission."

Looking into her eyes he said, "I know I don't need your permission. But I'm asking for it anyway."

"And if I don't give it?"

"Then I won't go ahead with it. I'll try to find another way to turn the others against Tyler."

Morgan stared at him as if she were trying to decide if she believed him. Then, taking a piece of notepaper, she wrote a few words on it and placed it on the corner of her desk in front of him.

"That's the name I used and the hospital where I was treated. Do whatever you want." She sat back in her chair.

McCoy picked up the paper and slipped it into his pocket. "Thank you. I'll let you know if we find anything."

There was so much he wanted to say to her, so much he wanted her to understand. And as he sat looking at her, most of all he wanted to fold her into his arms and convince her that he was different from what she believed most men to be.

He leaned forward slightly. "Calea..."

"I have a lot of work waiting, Jack," Morgan responded quietly. "You have what you came for. You should go."

She was staring at the floor again, avoiding his eyes. After a moment he nodded. "Okay. I'll go." He stood and walked slowly to the door. Before he opened it he turned around. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

She nodded. "Thanks."

He closed the door softly behind him.

***"Jack!"

He heard the voice but chose to continue to his office without acknowledging.

Once inside, he took off his coat and hung it on a hanger.

When he turned around, Carmichael came to a stop in front of his desk.

"Where have you been? Tyler's lawyer has been calling all afternoon and Lockhardt's wants to know when his client can leave New York. Adam was looking for you earlier and I've been trying to cover for you all afternoon. The least you could've done is let me know where you were going to be."

"I had some things to take care of," he replied quietly. "Close the door and sit down."

After doing as he said, Carmichael studied him. "What's wrong, Jack?"

Instead of sitting behind his desk he sat with her on the sofa. "I met with Peter Fairchild today. He told me why Calea took the money without any questions." He leaned his elbow on the back of the cushions and propped his head up with his hand. "The evening after Calea told the partners what she suspected about Harrison and was voted down in accepting him as a client, Tyler beat her so badly that she had to go to the hospital."

Carmichael turned from looking at him. "That S.O.B. No wonder she didn't want to be alone with him."

"Fairchild said he knew something was wrong when she called to ask if she could stay at an apartment he had in Chicago, so he flew in the next day." McCoy paused for a second, staring at a point on the sofa somewhere between the two of them. "He said he found her on the floor of the bathroom, wrapped in a blanket. She couldn't even make it back to the bed. He begged her to let him take her back to the hospital but she wouldn't. He found out later that she had left on her own without the doctor's knowledge. He stayed with her for three weeks and took care of her. She never admitted Tyler did it, but Fairchild said he was sure anyway. He brought her back to New York with him after she met with the partners the final time."

"Did you go see her?"

McCoy turned and stared down at his hands. "Yes."

"I would've gone with you," Carmichael offered.

Glancing at her, he nodded. "I know. But I needed to go by myself."

After a brief hesitation she asked, "Can I ask what she said?"

He stood up and walked to his chair. But instead of sitting down, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and answered angrily, "She said he hit her for twelve of the fourteen years they were married. And she doesn't know why she didn't leave him sooner." McCoy huffed out a breath and shook his head. "After we first met, she told me her goal after law school was to be a partner in a prestigious firm. Maybe it was worth putting up with Tyler to have what she wanted."

Giving him a surprised look Carmichael said, "You don't really believe that."

Sitting down with his hands still in his pockets, he sighed and leaned his head back against the chair. "I don't know what to believe. I don't understand how someone intelligent, someone who knew she had options, could choose to remain in that situation. If there had been children involved maybe I could understand. But it was just her. She should've left him."

"You've read as many profiles on abused women as I have, Jack. You know the victims almost always feel trapped and under the control of their abusers."

He turned his head toward her, still leaning back. "She was an attorney, Abbie, with a friend in the D.A.’s office. All she had to do was tell someone. She could've gotten a restraining order against Tyler. She knew the law."

Realizing the futility of arguing, Carmichael said, "So I assume we're going to meet with the three partners tomorrow and explain to them what really happened."

"Calea doesn't think they'll take her word for it. I don't know if they will or not but we don't have time to take any chances. We need to provide them with proof. I have the hospital she went to after it happened and the name she used there. I want you to fly to Chicago first thing in the morning and get everything you can from the hospital records. Take a copy of her picture from the law-licensing bureau along and see if anyone remembers her. If they do, have them sign an affidavit."

With a nod, Carmichael rose and reached for his phone.

"If you don't mind, use your phone," he suggested, stopping her. "There's a call I need to make."

Noting the hard look in his eyes, she nodded again. "All right."

As she closed his door McCoy flipped through his business cards and selected one, then dialed the number.

After the receptionist directed his call he waited briefly.

"Looks like you put in the same kind of hours I do," Compton noted. "I'm sorry I haven't called but I don't have anything to tell you. We haven't found anything blatant enough to warrant an inevitable discovery claim."

"That isn't what I'm calling about."

"Have you found something on your end?"

McCoy's voice was deceptively calm. "When I asked you if you thought Tyler was capable of hurting Calea, you said you had no knowledge that he ever had. But you did. You knew what he did to her. That's what you talked about when you took her aside on Monday, isn't it? Why the hell didn't you tell me about it?"

"I assume Peter Fairchild got in touch with you," Compton replied. "I didn't tell you because Calea wouldn't allow me to and I couldn't betray her trust."

His voice was no longer calm. "Trust? You betrayed her trust four years ago. Not only were you her friend, you were also a D.A. who had first-hand knowledge of a crime that had been committed against her. You had an obligation to her to have Tyler arrested."

Compton's voice was angry and defensive. "Don't tell me what my obligations were. I did everything I could to get Calea to press charges. I don't think I need to explain to you the impossibility of prosecuting someone for spousal abuse if the spouse refuses to cooperate. If I could’ve found a way to prosecute that S.O.B. without her consent, I would have. But there were no witnesses and she wouldn't even confirm Tyler was the one who beat her. There was nothing I could do."

"She went to a hospital. You could've gotten those records."

"Believe me, I tried. But do you have any idea how many hospitals there are in this area? I called every one in the book, and none of them had any record of her coming in. She refused to tell me which one she had gone to and she refused to tell me what name she had used."

"Well, she told me. Maybe you didn't try very hard because you didn't want to be responsible for having such a ‘well-respected member of the community’ arrested," McCoy suggested.

"I wasn't intimidated by Frank Tyler's status in the community, or by him personally, Counselor," Compton snapped. "Who do you think is responsible for the fact that he's never pursued the political career that he wanted so badly? After I knew Calea was safely in New York, I paid Tyler a little visit. He will never hold a public office of any sort as long as I'm alive to prevent it. And had I known in advance he was going to see her a few weeks ago, I would've prevented that as well."

"You should've had him arrested," McCoy insisted. "He should've spent the rest of his life in prison for what he did to her."

Compton was quiet a moment. When he spoke, the anger was gone. "No one knows that better than I do. I saw first-hand what he did to her." He paused for a second before continuing. "Calea was in the middle of a trial when it happened. The day after, Stan Greenberg showed up in court to take over the case. When I asked where she was, he said she had taken some time off for a personal matter. I knew he was lying. In all the years I've known her, she's never missed a court date. I called her office, her home, even Tyler. He wouldn't return my calls no one else could give me a good answer as to where she was. Fairchild came to see me a week later. He didn't come right out and tell me. Instead, he asked how to go about having someone picked up for beating their wife. I knew immediately that he was talking about Calea. He didn't want to tell me where she was because she had made him promise not to tell anyone what had happened. So I made him take me to her." He sighed heavily. "You can say I should've had her picture shown around every E.R. in town and that I should've at least had Tyler picked up for questioning. But you weren't there. There's not a doubt in my mind that Fairchild saved her life. It had been a full week and she still could barely even sit up. She pleaded with me to let it drop, and even though I did what I could to find evidence without her help, I knew she never would've made it through a trial. In my opinion, letting it go was the best thing to do for her. And you can't tell me you would've done any differently."

McCoy's voice was quiet but insistent. "You're wrong, Counselor. I would've found the evidence and I would've used it to convict Tyler, with or without her help."

"Oh? Tell me something, Jack: If she asked you not to use what happened to her against Tyler now, would you still do it?"

He hesitated. His own words, asking for her consent, promising not to pursue the matter if she didn't give it, rang in his ears. "My situation is different. I need her permission to use the information with third parties. I'm not trying to use it to prosecute Tyler for what he did to her four years ago."

"No, you're not," Compton agreed. "You're trying to find a way to prosecute him for a murder without allowing Calea to sacrifice her career in the process. From where I stand, you're doing much the same thing I did then and am trying to do now, which is to help her."

Deciding the best way to deal with the uncomfortable subject was to change it, McCoy said, "I'm sending Abbie to Chicago in the morning. She's going to try to get a copy of the hospital records and find someone who remembers Calea."

"If you let me know when she's arriving I'll have my assistant meet her and give her whatever help is necessary," Compton promised.

"I'd appreciate that. And I was hoping you could buy us a little more time with your office."

"I believe I can persuade Abbott to wait through the weekend. Do you think you can turn the others by then?"

"I'm certainly going to try," McCoy assured him. "Will your D.A. drop the investigation against Calea if I do?"

"I don't know. But since Tyler's lawyer assured him the other three will back up the accusations, if they don't he may not be inclined to give the case as much consideration. And I'm doing everything I can to discourage him."

"Good." McCoy paused, still uneasy with Compton's explanation for his inaction. "I'll call you tomorrow with Abbie's flight information," he finally concluded.

"We'll take care of her," Compton assured him. "Look, Jack, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you about Tyler on Monday but I felt an obligation to Calea not to do so. But I did call Fairchild. Calea hadn't told him everything that was going on. I had hoped that maybe in the years since she left, she would've confided in him and he might have some useful information. She hadn't but I'm glad he came to you anyway. I had hoped he wouldn't feel the same obligation that I did to keep her secret."

"I suppose I understand," McCoy admitted reluctantly. "I only hope we can find some evidence of what Tyler did to use with the other partners."

"I'll be waiting for your call tomorrow," Compton said.

After hanging up the phone McCoy sat wearily back in his chair, turning to look out at the myriad of lights beyond his window. He was still staring out a few minutes later when he heard a knock at his door. He turned to see Carmichael and motioned her in.

"I'm booked on a flight out at 6:00 in the morning," she informed him, handing him a slip of paper with the flight information on it.

Taking it, McCoy nodded. "I spoke with Compton. He said he would send his assistant to pick you up and take you wherever you needed to go. That should make things a little easier." He paused a second. "You should probably go home. You're going to have an early morning."

"I guess I will," she agreed, turning toward the door. "I'll call you from Chicago."

"Good-night Abbie," McCoy called as she left.

He was looking out of the window again when she returned a few seconds later. McCoy gave her a questioning look as she stood in front of his desk wearing her coat.

"Do you want to go get something to eat?" she asked.

He started to automatically turn her down, given his mood. But the thought of spending the evening alone was not very appealing.

"Yes, I would," he nodded.