Equitable Action

Part One – Vin Coming In

Every step he took seemed to slow time more. Every smell, every flash of light off of a windshield, every screech of someone’s tires seemed to drive him a little more insane.

New York City.

He had been carried out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal in a wave of stinks and elbows, his mind unable to turn him in any other direction than that which life had forced him. For several blocks, he’d dodged the traffic and pedestrians, barely looking up as he skittered across Times Square, never seeing the handsome façade of Grand Central Station, completely unaware of the Chrysler building soaring above his head. He followed the lines in the sidewalk as if they were a trail, leading him to his goal. Eventually, he made it to his destination, unfolding the crumbled and stained piece of paper in his pocket as he checked the address:

42nd and Lexington.

Law Offices of Sanchez and Standish, L.P., 7th floor.

He peered at the nondescript doorway, stuck in between a small deli and a travel agent, and bit his lip. The only sign on the door was a small sticker that said, "Ring several times. Buzzer is on the fritz." Grimacing, he hit the little white button for the seventh floor…and waited.

A crackling sound interrupted the blur of traffic.

"Law Offices, may I (garbled)?"

He leaned forward, licking his lips.

"Yeah, um, My name is…."

"Speak up, could you? This damned thing is (garbled)."

He grinned slightly, and sucked in a deep breath.

"MY NAME IS VINCENT TANNER!" he yelled into the rusty console. "I'VE GOT AN…."

The door buzzed open before he finished. Vin caught it and held it open with a foot. He pressed the console again.

"Uh, THANKS!"

"No prob. Take the elevator to the fifth floor, then walk down the hall to the next building, and hit the next set of elevators to get you to 7. Then walk back. When you reach the broken door (garbled), and then turn left. We’re there."

Vin blinked, and raised an eyebrow. "UM, WHAT DO I DO AFTER THE BROKEN DOOR?"

"(garbled)"

"SAY AGAIN?"

"I’ll meet you at the elevators on the 7th floor."

"Oh. Thanks."

"What?"

"THANKS!"

"Uh huh." The console beeped a nasty tone and Vin jumped slightly, almost causing him to lose his hold on the door. He swallowed, and stared out at the gray and brown city, blue-gray eyes scanning the people walking past with a slightly glazed expression.

So many people.

Pushing the glass door open a little wider, he slipped into the hallway and walked down the dark, fluorescent lit hall.

Part Two – The Lawyers

His fingers were drumming rapidly on the legs of his jeans as he watched the ancient elevator click upwards from 5 to 7. Creaks and groans accompanied the slow movement, and the small part of him that was claustrophobic wished he had taken the stairs.

As the metal box chunked to a stop on 7, he straightened the light brown sports jacket, smoothed down his blue shirt and made sure his long brown hair was still tucked firmly into a pony tail behind his ears. Satisfied, he straightened his shoulders and prepared to meet the person on the other side.

He wasn’t expecting a kid. His face fell.

Slouched against the wall opposite the elevators was a young man with black hair covering half of his face, his arms crossed over a plain white shirt. The boy stood up as Vin got off, and tilted his head.

"You Tanner?" he asked, stepping forward.

Vin frowned slightly.

"Yeah, and you are?"

"JD Dunne. I’m the office's legal secretary. Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Standish are waiting for you." The kid smiled, and Vin surprised himself by smiling back. When the boy started walking, Vin fell in comfortably behind, checking out the 1920s décor that had clearly seen better days. They stepped up at one point, crossing back into the building that Vin had entered, the Texan unable to hide his confusion at the round about directions they were taking. JD glanced at him, and laughed slightly.

"Lots of New York buildings are like this, Mr. Tanner. They all stick together, so folks had the bright idea to knock down the adjoining walls and make more space. If you ask me, I think someone just liked the idea of creating mazes out of skyscrapers. Things are a little less crazy where I’m from, though not much."

"Oh? Where are you from?"

"Boston."

Vin nodded, "I been there. Stayed in Chinatown."

JD grinned, "The Combat Zone? That was brave of you. Me, I grew up in the North End."

"You Italian?"

"Nah, Irish, my mom just liked the food. Besides, for her, it was really close to work. She was a chamber maid at the Boston Harbor Hotel."

Vin whistled, "Beautiful place."

JD’s face fell slightly, "Yeah."

"Your dad work there too?" Vin asked.

"We’re here," JD said, indicating another glass door. Smiling, he pushed it open and led the way.

Vin stood on the threshold for a minute, the dread coming back as he remembered exactly why it was he was here. He became stuck to the ground, his whole world freezing, a strange blackness filling his vision and blocking out all sound. The only awareness he had was his sense of touch as the air conditioned air blew out of the room to tickle his face and lift stray strands of lanky light brown hair from off his face.

"Mr. Tanner?" JD frowned, reaching out a hand to touch the immobile man's arm.

Vin blinked and adjusted his shoulders, "Yeah, kid, I'm here." Shaking his head, he stepped into the office.

It was like walking into a whirlwind.

Papers, boxes, folders were everywhere, piled up against walls and against the small desk off to one side. JD grinned and walked ahead of him, weaving his thin frame through the anarchy with a familiar ease. Trying not to seem surprised, Vin followed him, looking away when he caught empty boxes of krispy kremes and dunkin donut boxes scattered around. There were also fast food restaurant bags, both coke and pepsi bottles, empty paper cups, and other bits and pieces of what looked like late night meals.

"Sorry about the mess," JD said, "We used to store some of this stuff, but the storage bay the bosses were using flooded, so we're keeping it here. And as for the food – you'll soon see that Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Standish have conflicting views on everything, so I usually have to compromise by doubling everything. Mr. Sanchez, for example, he only drinks Pepsi, while Ez, I mean, Mr. Standish, he only drinks Coke. Really drives me nuts." With a put upon sigh, the young man, whom Vin figured was probably just old enough to be out of college, made his way to one of the two wooden doors leading off this first room and knocked loudly.

Sounds of shuffling and moving around met the knock, and, after a moment, a low booming voice called for the knocker to come in. JD opened the door, shoving a little as the wood stuck on the old carpeting.

"Josiah? Tanner is here. Want me to get Ez?"

"You call him Ez and he'll have your head, kid. But yeah, get that lazy sob over here, will you? And send Tanner in." It was a comforting voice, despite the rather gruff undertone, and Vin already felt a little better. JD backed off, allowing Vin entrance, while he moved away to go knock on the other door.

Vin peeked into the room, and wasn't surprised to see even more chaos. Piles of papers, bookshelves crammed with storage boxes, and, on one set of shelves, books stuffed into every conceivable space, bindings worn on almost every one. In the middle of it all sat Josiah Sanchez, pushing away from his desk to peer over the papers on his desk at the newcomer.

Josiah was about fifty, well built and tall, with a well-worn face and bright blue eyes that looked as if they saw through walls. He wore a green striped grandfather shirt, open at the collar, atop dark brown slacks with a dark coffee stain on the right leg. Reaching over the desk, since it was obviously easier than extricating himself from the small section of non cluttered space where he had his chair, Josiah stuck out a huge callused hand and smiled.

"Vin! Good to see you again. I see you found us all right."

"Yeah...Pretty easy, as you said. Straight shot from the bus station. Hardest part was this building you're in."

"Yeah, it's a wonderful place, don't you think? So full of character!"

"The only character in this dump is you, Josiah," said a cultured voice from the door, a decidedly southern accent coloring the tone. The hackles on Vin's back rose, instantly finding something unsettling about the icy voice. He turned to see a polished looking man standing at the door in an Italian suit, his arms crossed casually. Green eyes as icy as his voice looked Vin up and down, a small mocking smile gracing the handsome face.

"Ez, sometimes I wonder where your soul is," Josiah huffed, sitting back down to lean back in his chair. The man in the doorway lowered his gaze and smiled.

"My soul? Well, it wasn't boiled away with the rest of my brains during the summer of love, is that's what you mean," the southerner replied. Then he looked at Vin as Josiah shot him a dark look, "I take it you are Mr. Tanner? The bounty hunter?"

"Ez-bounty hunter," Vin corrected.

"Ah, yes. Of course," Ezra Standish wandered in stepping around the papers with surprising grace. When he reached the desk, he leaned himself on the corner and looked at Josiah, "Perhaps we should conduct this interview in my office? The chairs in there are free of...stuff."

Josiah grimaced, then nodded. Ezra grinned, then looked across at JD. The young man had followed him in from the outer room, and was perched on the threshold.

"Mr. Dunne, did you call Larabee?"

"Yep, him and Buck are going to swing by in about an hour, just as you asked."

"Not Mr. Jackson?"

"Nate wasn't available. He's at his other job."

Ezra nodded, standing, "Well, then, if you will follow me, Mr. Tanner, I think you will find my office a little more conducive to actually being able to sit down."

Tanner frowned, watching the impeccable man slither (yes, slither was the right word, Vin thought) out of Josiah's office and in the direction of his own. Vin looked over at Josiah, watching as the older man stood and stretched. The lawyer grinned at Vin's expression.

"Don't judge on appearances, Tanner. Trust me on that."

Vin shrugged, hoping that Josiah was right. Usually he felt himself a good judge of character, and this snake-oil salesman partner of Josiah's had him uneasy, but he was also aware that his choices were limited at the moment. It was either Josiah and his partner, or the court appointed fanny-pack wearing woman that the police had first said would represent him. She's taken one look at him with her jaded eyes and asked him whether he had any information she could use to lighten his sentence. Apparently, his vehement exclamation that he was innocent had meant nothing to her.

"Of course you are, hon," she'd said, glancing at his file, "but we like to cover all our bases in case the jury doesn't agree, you know?"

The same night that she'd stomped on his hope, he'd gotten drunk in a bar somewhere down in the east village, and vaguely recalled watching a fight break out on the street outside. Two teenagers got into a fight, and one pulled a knife. Then this behemoth of a man – at least that's what Vin had first imagined he saw when Josiah appeared – came out of nowhere and tackled the kid with a knife. It was a stupid thing to do, and, if Vin hadn't been there, it is likely that the shop owners would be hosing Josiah's blood off the sidewalk now. But Vin had been there, and when the teenager got the advantage and tried to take a chunk of skin out of the intervening man, Vin had grabbed a metal trash can and chucked it at the kid, bringing him down. The police arrived a moment later and took the kid away. After both men had given their statements down at the precinct, Josiah had bought Vin a drink in thanks. Not too much later, Josiah had promised to represent him.

"My partner and I are the best," the older man had said, "the rest of the world just doesn't know it yet."

Now, looking around the crazy office, still unhappy with the "partner," and wondering if he hadn't just walked into some sort of alternative universe, Vin followed JD over to the other office.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra Standish's office was very different from that of his partner's. While it may have contained the same amount of papers and books, they were neatly stacked and carefully placed around the room, creating the illusion of space. For all that, it also seemed sparse and somehow cold, much like the man who occupied it. His discomfort increasing again, Vin moved across to the large picture window facing the building opposite and leaned his forehead against the cool pane. Out of the corner of his eye, the Chrysler building glittered in the morning sunlight.

Behind him, Josiah and Ezra settled into chairs, while JD stood in the doorway, expectant. Ezra shook his head at the kid and waved him off. JD nodded, knowing the rules well enough now to understand that strictures of confidentiality. He shut the door behind him.

Vin looked up as the lock clicked close, to find Josiah watching him curiously and Ezra looking at him like a lab specimen. There was a barely suppressed look of impatience on the younger lawyer's face, and Vin sighed.

"So you've been accused of murder," Ezra said curtly, beginning the conversation when it appeared that neither of the other two men would.

Vin snorted, and looked up at the sky. It seemed closer than usual. Everything seemed closer together in New York, not like where he grew up in Texas. He wished he were back there now.

"From what I've gleaned from the papers," Ezra continued, watching Vin carefully, "the man who was murdered was Stephen Travis, a prosecutor in the DA's office and son of retired Judge Orrin Travis. He left behind a wife, Mary, a freelance journalist and owner of a small publishing company, and a young son, Billy."

"Yes," Vin said, not looking over.

Ezra nodded, "The murder occurred a week ago, on the night of May 14, in a bar in Queens called the Black Rose. When the police arrived, the found you by the body of Mr. Travis, gun in hand and Travis's blood on your trousers. Your first words, apparently, were to say that you must have shot him, though, when prompted, you couldn't tell them exactly how. You later recanted this statement, saying that it was a mistake. You remember firing, maybe, but you were not trying to kill Travis. Instead, you were after the bounty on a man by the name of Eli Joe, and that Stephen Travis must have somehow got in the way. You don't know how Travis came to the bar, or how he got in the way, or even what happened to Joe, whom you insisted had been there that night, though no one else in the bar would support this." Ezra paused in his recitation, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noted the depression blanketing the man at the window. Ezra frowned, his green eyes absorbing the body movements and facial expressions with the skilled eyes of a man who made his living reading people. Then he looked across at Josiah.

The older man nodded back. See, Josiah was saying to him silently, I told you he was innocent. Ezra arched an eyebrow.

"In any case, ballistics matched the bullet in Travis's back to those in your gun, and there was powder on your hands, indicating that you had recently shot the weapon. All these facts would lead to almost incontrovertible evidence that you shot Mr. Travis. The only question for the DA is, whether it was premeditated. The prosecution will hope to show intent, and convict for first degree murder. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Tanner, Stephen Travis was not only a prominent citizen, but he was a significant member of the system which you now hope to survive. Frankly, at this point, I would be surprised if they do not call for the death penalty in their opening statement."

Vin pressed more of his forehead against the cool glass, shutting his eyes as a headache started to beat against his skull. Ezra frowned, his voice softening.

"Now, if it wasn't premeditated, then there is still second degree murder, the penalties for which will undoubtedly be equally as severe. Of course, If they fail to show any intent or reckless behavior, then the crime may be ratcheted down to manslaughter, but I find that unlikely, Mr. Tanner. You are...were...a bounty hunter. That suggests a certain degree of training and background, meaning that the standard for negligence or mistake will be higher for you."

Vin shrugged, "What does that all mean?" he asked finally.

"It means that it might be easier to sneak you out of the country than get you off," the young lawyer replied. Vin looked at him askance, not hiding his disappointment. Ezra pursed his lips, his eyes still scrutinizing.

Josiah stood and walked over to where Vin stood at the window and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We will do our best for you, Vin. I told you as much that night at the bar. If you choose to officially take us on as your counsel, we will take everything you tell us into the strictest confidence and use every weapon in our arsenal to make sure the right verdict is found. Now, Ezra here may come off as a bit cold – hell, that recitation would have chilled a arctic wolf – but he knows what he is talking about. You just have to tell us what you want."

Vin leaned away from the window and looked squarely at the older man, "What I want...is for none of this to have happened."

Josiah grunted, "Yeah...I've heard that before."

"Are you innocent, Mr. Tanner?" Ezra stood up and leaned against the edge of his desk. There was a strange undertone to the cultured voice this time, something that made Vin look across at him in surprise. The voice held nothing but a demand for the honest truth, as opposed to disdain or arrogance. Vin realized that something subtle had changed in the lawyer – it was almost like he was a different person. The snake was gone, along with the cold attitude. The green eyes no longer scrutinized...they were open.

The bounty hunter nodded, watching Ezra carefully, "Yes. I didn't shoot Travis, Mr. Standish. I'm sure of it."

Ezra nodded once, "Well then, I suggest we get to work finding out who did."

Vin expelled a quick breath, "You believe me, don't you?"

Ezra shrugged, "As they say, Mr. Tanner, it doesn't matter what I believe, but..." he smiled, "it certainly helps to believe in one's client. If, indeed, you are our client?"

"Are we your counsel, Vin?" Josiah asked.

"Yeah, just tell me where I sign," Vin looked back at Josiah, and the older man smiled back. For the first time since he first set foot in this city two weeks ago, the bounty hunter felt like he had done something right.

Part Three – Vin's Story

For the hour that they sat together in the closed room, Vin told them everything he could about what had happened, about the man he'd been tracking, and anything else about himself that might help the two lawyers defending him.

His full name was Vincent Randolph Tanner, born in 1972 in Amarillo, Texas. Father died when he was a baby in a bar fight, mother when he was ten from Leukemia. He was bounced around the foster care system, moving all over the place, until, at the age of sixteen, he ran away, hiding on an Indian reservation in Oklahoma until he was eighteen. Over the next few years, he had a variety of jobs, including spending a couple of years at the police academy, until, when he twenty five, he got his license to be a bounty hunter. Four years later, he took on the job to take down a notorious Texan drug runner named Eli Joe. Vin tracked him across ten states, eventually bringing him here to New York City. It was the bounty hunter's first time here, but, priding himself on being able to adapt to anything, he had blended in and followed Joe into the heart of Queens, to the Black Rose....

"How did you know he was going to be there?" Ezra asked, looking up from his pad. Vin shrugged slightly.

"I'm an unknown in these parts; I simply portrayed myself as a buyer." The bounty hunter leaned back in the chair he had taken, looking up at the pockmarked ceiling. "By this point, I knew what Eli had and what he needed, and I made sure I fit both parameters. Before here, he had not stopped in a single place for longer than a few days, meaning I just kept missing him, but I quickly found out he had roots here, and I took advantage of them."

"Apparently, he learned of your manipulations," Ezra said, scribbling down some more notes. Vin gave him a crooked smile and nodded.

"Yeah, he knew I was coming. It's the only thing I can think of. He set me up."

"Eli Joe....I don't know that name," Josiah muttered. "I was twenty years inside the public defender's office, you'd think I would at least have seen that name attached to something once. Does he have an alias?"

Vin shook his head, "He liked to call himself the Pickaxe, but all the informant's I talked to simply referred to him as Eli Joe."

Josiah frowned, "The pickaxe. No, I don't know that one either. Ezra?"

"Just something else to look up. How long before Larabee gets here?"

Josiah turned his wrist to check his watch, "Ten minutes."

"Who is Larabee?"

"Head of a detective agency a couple doors down," Josiah answered. "He and his best friend, Buck Wilmington, opened it up at almost the same time that I set up my own practice here. In fact, this whole floor pretty much got filled in at the same time, once it was cleaned up by the new owners. A small doctor's office moved in as well, but it went defunct quickly. One of the younger docs who worked there, though, he ended up working part time for Larabee. Chris has a habit of ending up in dangerous situations – Ezra here thinks he has a death-wish," Josiah glanced at his partner, and Ezra returned with a look that said, don't you? Josiah shook his head, "Anyways, the doctor got into the habit of patching him and Buck up. Larabee hired him on as an apprentice. Nathan Jackson, his name is. He still works as a doctor part time in a clinic in Brooklyn, but spends the rest of time working with Larabee, getting his own PI license."

"Nathan hates me," Ezra grinned, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back to regard the ceiling.

"Hates you?" Vin raised his eyebrows.

"With a passion."

"You provoke him," Josiah chastised.

"I know," Ezra grinned wider.

"You're a real prize, ain't ya," Vin said, shaking his head. The more he spoke with this man, the more he was amazed at how wrong his initial take on him had been. Or maybe, Ezra Standish was just allowing him to see who he really was now.

"The girl at the travel agency thinks so," Josiah grinned, waggling his eyebrows. Ezra's grin fell and he stared daggers at his partner.

"In any case, Mr. Tanner, we often hire Larabee and his partners on to investigate matters that we would otherwise not have the time to look up. Believe it or not, your case is not the only one we will be juggling, although it will have top priority. Fact is, Mr. Sanchez has a habit of picking up hard luck and pro bono cases all the time," He shot a look at Josiah, who smiled back. "That's the main reason we never seem to make any profit, and have to suffer this rather horrible setting."

"Now, son, you know perfectly well...."

"I do, and that familiar appellation is even less appreciated than the rather heinous nickname you have saddled me with. You know I hate being called Ez."

"He's angry because I brought up the girl at the travel agency," Josiah said to Vin, putting a hand to the side of his mouth in a mock aside. Ezra rolled his eyes.

"How many cases are you working on, then?" Vin asked.

"Eight, at the moment. Only one other is more pressing that yours. It goes to trial in the morning. The rest are scattered along the calendar, and I'm almost certain yours is the only other one which will actually see a jury."

"You're kidding?"

"Ezra is the plea bargain and settlement king," Josiah smiled. "Because of the often indigent nature of our clients, he tries to avoid court as much as possible. Too expensive. And the occasional well paying client's fee usually doesn't last long in the face of...."

"Josiah's big heart," Ezra sneered. "Why I ever agreed to partner up with him, I will never understand."

"Now, now, Ezra, you came to me, remember?"

"Don't remind me," Ezra rubbed at his eyes and smiled crookedly up at Vin. "Now, the way I see it, we have two main avenues of investigation – Eli Joe and Stephen Travis. The Larabee agency will deal with the primary investigations, while we follow up on what they find. Though I think I will have to insist on one of us going along when they visit the Travises."

"Agreed," Josiah said seriously, "But you know that Chris will not be happy if you dog him."

"Josiah, last time I let them go off on their own to meet with the Castilles on the upper west side, we nearly got slammed with three different suits for defamation, emotional distress and assault. I doubt I've talked faster in my life!"

"Buck and Chris can be a bit rude," Josiah nodded.

"Rude? No, rude would be a improvement. I'm saying they scare people. Damned fools can be worse than General Sherman on a Georgia plantation," Ezra rubbed at his neck. "No, I think when we deal with the Travises we will need a more subtle approach."

"Subtle?" Josiah smiled.

"As a fine wine," Ezra nodded.

"Just make sure it's not Blue Nun," Josiah leered. Ezra crossed his arms again in annoyance.

"Um, listen, what should I be doing while all this is happening?" Vin asked, interrupting.

Josiah rested his chin on his hand, "Fortunately for me, though not so much for you, I know that you are not the type to sit still," he said. "While we would appreciate it if you stayed out of it, we can not stop you from trying to clear your own name. As such, we're going to recommend that you work with Larabee, so that he can also protect you. But, do us a favor and do everything he tells you. Also, try to remain vigilant and in his line of sight at all time. And, of course, no weapons."

"They took my gun," Vin said tiredly.

"Don't find another one," Ezra said. "Larabee will protect you."

"You place a lot of trust in this Larabee," Vin noted, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"More than in myself," Ezra said quietly. Josiah snapped blue eyes on him, and Ezra grimaced. "Sorry," he muttered to the older lawyer. Josiah looked annoyed at the younger man for the first time since they arrived, and Vin was instantly curious. He wished he could find a way to nail down Standish's personality, but he seemed to change from icy cold, to good-humored, to submissive, as quickly as Vin blinked.

"Moving on," Josiah said, "Where are you staying, Vin?"

"Hostel up in Washington Heights."

"Too dangerous, and too open to attack," Ezra said. "We'll...."

A knock at the door interrupted them, and, before even waiting for Ezra to say "come in," JD opened the door.

"Knocking normally means you are meant to wait for permission, Mr. Dunne," Ezra admonished, leaning forward again in his seat. JD blushed.

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry Ez, I mean, Mr. Standish, but, um, Chris and Buck are here."

Part Four – The Detectives

Ezra's eyes narrowed, "Mr. Dunne, if you call me 'Ez' one more time, I will force this lummox of a partner of mine to fire you, got it?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Standish," JD replied, looking to the floor.

"This is your fault, you know," Ezra said to Josiah. "If you didn't insist on shortening my name that way in front of the help, no one would...."

"Hell and Damnation, Ez, get off your high horse!" A tall man called loudly, shoving in behind JD and propelling the kid into the room. JD stumbled and looked back, his face completely open as Buck Wilmington strode over to the desk. "Your name is Ez, and you may as well accept that. For a whelp, you are way too uptight."

Ezra's mouth fell open, "A...a whelp? Did you just call me a...?"

"Yep. You, the kid there, and...who's the new whelp?" Buck smiled at Vin, and the bounty hunter stared back, his mouth set in a firm line.

The detective was tall, maybe 6'4", with black hair and a thick black moustache that had been carefully groomed to cover a mouth accented with laughter lines. Buck wore a white cowboy hat, pulled low over his forehead to shadow dark blue eyes, and an outfit reminiscent of Vin's – a tweed sportscoat over jeans. Though he insisted on calling them all whelps, it was unlikely that the man was much over forty years in age.

It was also fairly obvious that JD Dunne was in serious awe of the man. The secretary's pupils had dilated, and he looked ready to back Buck up no matter what he said. If there was a reason the kid called Ezra Standish "Ez," it was because that is what Buck Wilmington called him.

Meanwhile, "Ez" had puckered his lip in annoyance. "Mr. Wilmington, may I introduce Vin Tanner, our new client," he stated sourly.

"Hi," Buck said, sticking out a hand. Vin took it, wincing slightly at the strong grip.

"What did he do?" asked a quiet gravelly voice from the doorway. Vin peeked around Buck as the detective stepped aside, and raised an eyebrow. Leaning against the door frame stood a man in dark blue jeans, dark maroon shirt and long black leather coat. Messy blond hair topped a grizzled face and blue almost black eyes absorbed the room. Chris Larabee stared back at Vin, looking as if he could see into the man's soul.

"What did he do?" Chris repeated, looking at Josiah.

"Got framed," Josiah replied.

"Framed?" Buck asked, looking Vin up and down, "for what? Being from Texas?"

"Hey!" Vin said quickly, straightening, "How did...?"

"The style of boots, whelp. I'd recognize them anywhere. You get them in Lubbock?"

Vin looked nonplussed, but nodded.

Buck smiled, "I'm from Abilene, originally. My mother's still there, though I moved here a long time ago."

"You'd never know it," Chris said wryly. "You can take the boy out of Texas, but...." he left the statement unfinished.

"Well, that makes three southern boys in one room in The City, that's gotta be significant of something," Buck said slapping Vin on the arm. The bounty hunter stepped backwards a bit and leaned back against the window, his arms crossed.

"If I'm included in that, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra said quietly, "I would just like to point out that I am most certainly not from Texas."

Lips mocking the words "not from Texas," Buck moved to lean on Ezra's desk.

"If we may get back to the business at hand?" Ezra said. He turned to Chris, "Mr. Tanner has been framed for murder."

"Tanner..." Chris frowned, his eyes reading the carpeting, then he looked up again. "You're the bounty hunter they've accused of murdering DA Travis."

Ezra nodded, "Accused, but not guilty, Mr. Larabee. We plan on finding out who really did do this nefarious deed. To that end, we need you to find a man by the name of Eli Joe, and we need to find out what Travis was up to."

"Who is Eli Joe?" Buck asked. He pulled a small black notebook out of his pocket and had pulled a pen.

"Drug runner, size of operation unknown. Mr. Tanner believes he works out of Queens."

"Queens? Well, better than Chinatown, I suppose." Buck looked over at Tanner, "What can you tell us about him."

"What do you need to know?" the bounty hunter rejoined.

"Everything," Chris said, pulling out his own notebook, "what he looks like, who his contacts are, where his neighborhood is, who you had contact with, and so on."

Vin nodded, and supplied them with what information he knew. Buck wrote furiously in his notebook, taking down almost every piece of information, while Chris mostly just listened. He watched Vin carefully, as if trying to figure something out.

"Yates was Eli's main contact, huh?" the blond detective smiled, "Now there is a name I know. Former marshal, went under the wire about ten years back." He looked at Buck, and the other man scowled. Ezra arched an eyebrow, but underlined the name in his own notes.

"When does the trial start?" Chris asked, looking across at Josiah.

"Three weeks."

"How is it you're not in jail?" Buck asked, looking over at Vin. "I'm surprised the judge even offered bail, much less set it low enough for a bounty hunter to pay."

The bounty hunter rubbed the back of his neck, "It was set and someone posted it," he shrugged. "They wouldn't tell me who."

"Really?" Ezra raised his eyebrows, and looked at Josiah, "Did you know this?"

The older lawyer shook his head, "I assumed that Mr. Tanner posted his own bail. That is, until I learned that the amount was set and $50,000. I was planning on asking Vin about it, but I forgot."

"$50,000?" Buck whistled. "Someone must really like you." He looked across at Ezra.

"Something else to add to the list, Mr. Wilmington."

"Still want us on the Delacroix case?" Chris asked, tilting his head.

"No, I think we have all we need. Oh, and I have your payment for the work you did on the Niscian case. Mr. Dunne has the check."

Chris nodded, then looked up as Ezra cleared his throat.

"Mr. Larabee, due to the sensitive nature of this case...uh, Josiah and I have agreed that, uh, one of us should accompany you when you look into the Travis side of this case," Ezra's green eyes flitted to touch Chris's, then flitted away to look at Josiah, as if seeking strength. The older lawyer had his face set in a firm expression.

Chris frowned, looking at the two lawyers with less than trusting eyes, "You both agreed to this?"

"After what happened with the Castilles, yes," Josiah said, not looking the slightest bit nervous at the menacing quality in Chris's voice.

Chris's right eye twitched, but that was the only outward sign that showed he was at all annoyed. Pursing his lips, he nodded once. Ezra blew out a held breath and smiled.

"Good, great. Now, the only other piece of logistics is where Mr. Tanner should find his domicile. He needs constant watch, as I do not want anyone to be able to take advantage of his current state of emancipation. "

Buck blinked, and rubbed at his forehead, "Ezra, do you speak that way just to annoy me?"

"Why doesn't he stay with you?" Chris asked, looking at the younger lawyer.

"Oh, well," Ezra frowned, "um, ethically speaking..." he looked at Josiah, but the older lawyer just shrugged.

"Yeah, you have that big apartment, certainly bigger than mine and Chris's," Buck said, "not to mention you are all by yourself."

"Gentlemen, please, this is not what I intended when I brought up..."

"I don't want to put anyone out," Vin interrupted.

"You wouldn't be putting him out," Josiah told him. "He's got plenty of room."

"Josiah!" Ezra turned betrayed eyes on his partner.

"Yes, son?"

"Josiah!!" Ezra actually slammed the desk this time.

The older lawyer laughed.

Part Five – A Thickening

"You didn't have to come with me, you know," Vin said quietly, as JD slid his metrocard through the scanner and passed through the turnstiles into the subway under Grand Central. The younger man smiled and shrugged as he waited for Vin to do the same, then looked quickly around for the directions to the shuttle to Times Square.

"Not a problem. Besides, Ez told me to go with you. I'm supposed to take you to get your stuff, then take you to his apartment, where he'll meet us in an hour. And I always do what he tells me," the kid replied, setting off for the S.

Vin smirked, "Yeah, everything he tells you except not calling him Ez."

JD threw him a wicked grin.

"So...how did you end up down here and not in Boston?" Vin asked as they walked lazily down the platform. The bounty hunter wrinkled his nose at the smell while JD absently scanned the tracks for mice.

"Oh, just needed to get out of Boston for a while," came the reply. "I mean, I love the city and all...but there were too many memories there."

"Memories?"

"Yeah...," JD's hazel eyes looked at Vin then turned quickly away again, "my mother died suddenly a year back, the day I graduated from college up there. Then there was all this mess with her debts and our house and no insurance and everything..." he sighed, stopping to peer in the direction where the train would enter from. "I felt like everything was happening so fast, and I couldn't keep up with all the legal stuff, and I almost...." he frowned. Vin held his hands behind his back and stared at the yellow line at his feet, vaguely wondering how he'd managed to open this kid's past so easily. Obviously, JD was in the mood to talk about it.

The kid shook his head, "Anyways, this woman friend of my mom's, a lawyer who worked near the Hotel, she came by one day to offer her condolences, and, when she saw the state I was in, she just took over, you know? Somehow, she sorted everything out and saved my sanity. Literally. Made me want to be like her, but I couldn't afford to go back to school then, or even to live, really, not to mention that I really needed to get out of Boston, and she went and fixed that too. She got me this job with Josiah, including convincing him to let me bunk with him until I could afford my own place down here."

"She must know him well," Vin noted absently.

"Yeah," JD smiled, "she's his ex-wife. Anyway, I did just that. Moved down here, bunked with Josiah for a couple of months, then got my own place. Now I'm saving to go to Law School."

Vin whistled, "Law School, huh? And here I thought you wanted to be a detective like Buck."

JD snorted and shook his head. Vin gave him a crooked smile, then looked up as the Shuttle pulled into the station in a wave of squeals and exhaling brakes.

They rode the subway in silence, not speaking even when they changed trains to head up to Washington Heights. It wasn't until they were walking down a potholed sidewalk on the way to the hostel that Vin asked another question.

"So, um...how long have Ezra and Josiah been partners?"

It was obviously a pregnant question as JD didn't answer immediately. When the kid finally cleared his throat to speak, Vin loosed some of the tension that had been building in his shoulders, wondering if he hadn't said something wrong.

"I guess a couple of years. Josiah took Ezra on after...after Mr. Standish had some trouble at the Firm he was working for."

"Trouble?"

"He doesn't talk about it. Ever. But I'm pretty sure Josiah saved him from something pretty awful, and then he agreed to take Ezra on as a partner since Ezra had nowhere else to go."

"Wow, really," Vin tucked a strand of hair behind his head.

"Yeah. Listen, don't say anything, okay? Ez...Mr. Standish...it's a real sore spot, you know? Once, this other lawyer visited us, Mr. Farron, I think his name was, and, I swear, Ezra's face completely blanched upon seeing him. The guy just walked past Ezra and into his office, and Ez followed him without a word. Just looked lost. Mr. Standish is never at a loss. I mean, he could talk a suicide victim down from a ledge and sell the guy a lifetime subscription to People at the same time without even breaking a sweat, you know? But this guy who visited....I don't know what happened, but when I told Josiah about it after he got back from lunch, well, Josiah just stormed into Ezra's office, breaking the lock on the door, punched Farron out, then carried him out of the building over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. I've never seen Josiah like that – he never gets that angry at anything, and Ezra just watched like a zombie. It was...bad."

Vin arched his eyebrows, taking this in with an amazed expression. "Huh," he muttered, "Did Josiah get in trouble for that? I mean, that's battery."

"Strangely, no. Never heard another word. This was, like, six months ago? We've heard nothing." JD shrugged, and looked up at his surroundings, taking in the decrepit brownstones with an unhappy expression. This was not the best neighborhood for a stroll, even in the middle of the day. "We almost there?"

Vin stopped, then turned around, and laughed. "Oh, sorry. We passed it!" Walking quickly, he stopped at the bottom of a short set of stone steps and pointed up at a building. The only thing marking it as different from the ones around it was the small green triangle next to the door with YHA emblazoned on it.

"I'll be right back," the bounty hunter said, taking the stairs two at a time and heading inside. JD sat down on the steps with a sigh, absently brushing some dirt off his khakis.

BANG! CRACK! Ka-BANG!

JD sat bolt upright as gunshots exploded over his head. Instantly moving to the stone wall edging the stairs, he grabbed the black railing and stared up at the building behind him with wide eyes.

"VIN!"

Ka-BANG! CRACK! Ka-BANG!

The crack of the bullets ricocheting against plaster dislodged the kid from his hold on the rusted metal railing and he backed up into the road, his eyes trying to discern what the hell was happening inside. He could hear a woman screaming somewhere on the third floor, and some short shouts from the first.

Swiveling his head left and right, he searched for help, but anyone who had been on the street minutes before had disappeared.

More gunshots were fired, and a bullet shot through a window on the second floor.

"Vin!" JD gripped his hands into fists, frozen in place. He didn't know what to do.

Suddenly, two bodies crashed through an upper story window, shattering the glass into a hundred glittering fragments as it cascaded down around the figures. JD leapt backward as the man "in front" landed hard on his back, the gun in his hand skittering away across the pavement. Vin landed heavily on top of him, using the gunman to break his fall.

Dazed, the bounty hunter picked himself up and almost fell onto JD. The kid grabbed his arm, and pulled him upright.

"Run," Vin whispered hoarsely at him, blood dripping down on one side of his face.

"What?"

Ka-BANG! Ka-BANG!

Gunshots ripped into the old pavement near JD's feet, and he scampered backwards, pulling Vin with him, getting them to cover behind an old, beat up VW parked on the far side of the street. Bullets impacted on the old metal with sharp pings, tiny showers of sparks displaying where they hit.

Daring to glance through the windows of the VW to the building, JD caught a glimpse of another gunman, dressed all in black and sporting black sunglasses, standing on the front stoop and firing in their direction. The driver's side window shattered, and JD ducked down again before the gunman could do the same with the passenger side that JD and Vin were hunkered down beneath.

Horribly, the kid realized that they had nothing to protect them. The gunman could just walk around the car and....

Sirens.

What a beautiful sound!

JD couldn't believe it. Someone had actually called the police!

The gunman on the stoop lowered his weapon and looked down the street as a cruiser sped towards him, lights flashing and siren blaring. Quickly, he ran across to his associate and bodily lifted him off the ground.

From a nearby alley, a navy sedan squealed around the corner and pulled to an abrupt stop in front of the gunmen. JD watched with wide eyes as the second gunman shoved the body of his partner into the back, then ran around to climb into the passenger side door. Seconds later, the car was gone, tearing down the street and leaving behind the noxious smell of burnt rubber. It screeched to a halt near the next corner, narrowly missing impacting with another cruiser coming in the opposite direction. Spinning, the police car executed a perfect U-Turn and chased after the sedan.

As the other police car pulled up next to them a second later, a still shaking JD was laying an unconscious Vin down on his back, desperately calling out the bounty hunter's name. A cop ran up next to him, calling for an ambulance over his radio.

The bounty hunter remained oblivious as neighbors came boiling out of doors to tell their stories of what happened.

Part Six – Museums and Mausoleums

Vin woke up slowly, his mind buzzing angrily and his stomach curdling as his senses returned. With a heavy sigh, which turned into a groan, he risked opening his gray eyes to find out where he was.

First thing he saw was florescent lighting.

Then he smelled the antiseptic.

Aw Hell...he was in a hospital.

"Hey, Chris, our bounty hunter's awake," someone said near his ear...and not quietly.

Turning his head, Vin caught sight of Buck sitting in a plastic chair near his head, the tall man's feet propped up on the hospital bed. The New York cowboy grinned, and tipped back his hat. Shuffling indicated that someone else was standing and walking over, and soon Vin found Chris Larabee staring down at him with those blue-black eyes.

"How're you feeling?" the detective asked, frowning slightly as Vin blinked up at him. Confused, the bounty hunter's eyes narrowed as he tried to take stock of what had happened, then they widened as the memories flooded back.

"Shit! Is JD okay? What happened?" he asked quickly, his voice rough.

Chris arched an eyebrow, surprised at the concern for the kid over his own health. It made him smile, and the expression calmed Vin down some.

"JD is fine, Tanner. The police arrived before the assassins could do anything more damage. You got jarred around a bit, and whacked on the head a touch, but you'll be all right too."

Vin frowned, and looked over at Buck. The detective nodded, flashing a bright smile. Turning back to Chris, he blew the air out of his cheeks.

"How long have I been here?"

"Couple of hours. Woke up several times, but I think this is the first time you didn't fall asleep again immediately."

Vin smirked, not too surprised. He'd gotten whacked enough times on the head to know the rules. Sighing, he shifted up in the bed and looked more carefully out at the two men with him.

"And why exactly are you two here?"

"Ezra has us babysitting you," Buck said, leaning forward on his knees.

"Babysitting?" the bounty hunter couldn't hide his incredulity at the term.

"Protecting," Chris rephrased, his smile deepening.

"Though from the story JD told us, you could probably protect us," Buck chuckled. "Two armed assassins and no gun? I am impressed at your ability to dodge, though the window might have been a little extreme." The grin on his face could blind the sun.

Vin shrugged, and touched his hand to the bandage stuck to the side of his head, "Where are Ezra and JD?" he asked after a second.

"Ez did some fast talking to make sure you'd only have to make a statement before you are released to his and our custody, then he took off to go finish his other case. Josiah's with JD down at the precinct, clearing all the loose ends up. Probably take a while – cops can be very slow when there's been a shooting. Believe it or not, it doesn't happen as often as people think. City has been real calm for a while now, and the Heights have been working to clean up their image. You pissed the cops off up there something strong," Buck leaned back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. Vin just pursed his lips at the news, then looked up at Chris.

"So the cops will need to talk to me."

"Yup. We're to stop at the precinct on the way to Ezra's, to meet Josiah and JD. You'll make your statement, then we're outta there. Josiah'll make sure they're quick, then he and JD should be right behind us."

"So I'm still staying at Ezra's?"

"Yeah. You'll see why when you see his place. You'll be safer there than with any of the rest of us. Plus, believe it or not, the guy can handle himself."

Vin nodded, turning to face the door as a nurse pushed in. She smiled at him.

"Good, you're awake," she said, checking on the IV attached to his arm and the dressing on his head. It was merely a large bandage, covering about half his forehead on the left side.

"When can he leave here?" Chris asked, straightening up to face her. The nurse's smile faltered slightly as she met his dark gaze, and she looked away quickly.

"Um, well, that will be up to the doctor, but...." She shrugged.

"But?"

The nurse grimaced, and returned to smiling down at Vin. "She would have preferred you stay overnight, sir, but, due to the sensitivity of your situation, she has relented to your release with an AMA order. Looking at you now, I'm guessing it won't be long...." She patted his shoulder, and Vin tried not to sigh to heavily.

"So, lovely lady, what does that mean in real time?" Buck pushed himself up off his plastic chair and walked over to her, a lothario grin in full force. She blushed, and backed up a little.

"Um...soon. I think. Now that he is awake. The doctor will ask him some questions, but I'm pretty sure that, um, that if you, uh...." she was blushing furiously now as Buck sidled closer to her and smiled charmingly, blue eyes shining. She bit her lip, then, backing up quickly to the door, stammered out something about getting the doctor for them immediately. Moments later, she was out the door and Buck was chuckling. Chris shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Wow," Vin said admiringly. "You did that with a smile, huh? You gotta secret?"

Buck winked in Vin's direction, "Pure animal magnetism, my friend."

Vin grinned back, oddly pleased at being called friend by this man.

+ + + + + + +

It was late evening when the taxi pulled up in front of a large apartment building on the upper west side, not too far from the Natural History Museum. In fact, the taxi had swung around the beautiful museum, giving the bounty hunter his first view of the huge, new planetarium all lit up against the darkening sky. He'd not had a chance to sightsee at all, and, between driving past the huge park and seeing the museum, he was seeing why this city was considered so amazing.

The building they stopped in front of was enormous, rising straight up from the sidewalk like a castle. It faced the park, and as he turned, Vin could hear the soft sounds of music and laughter coming out of the trees, the soft whisper of the trees almost driving out the sounds of the city.

At least, if you could ignore the cars boiling down the road.

Buck took his arm, pulling him forward when it appeared that Vin wasn't ready yet to move.

"Impressive, isn't it?" the tall man whispered in his ear. Vin nodded dumbly as the cowboy steered him to the entrance.

Before him, the dark green awning and blood red carpeting marked the main door, and there were heat lamps attached to the underside of the awning. Of course, it being summer, they were unnecessary, but it still impressed Vin to see them. A doorman stood waiting for them, his eyebrows raised disdainfully.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

"Chris Larabee, Buck Wilmington and Vin Tanner, for Ezra Standish."

The doorman looked them up and down, then held his hand out. Chris handed him their identifications. Checking them over, the doorman nodded, handed them back, and backed away to grant them entrance.

The foyer was a study in striped red marble and dark mahogany, as impressive as any palace. Plush heather green carpeting sprang happily underfoot as they headed to the front desk. Another man smiled up at them, though the expression was somewhat forced. His eyes glazed over the square bandage on Vin's forehead and the small butterfly strips down the left side of his face as if they weren't there. The blood specks on his shirt collar were equally ignored. After all, that was what he was paid to do.

"Messrs Larabee, Wilmington and Tanner, welcome to the Westmoreland. You have the use of elevator two, down that way." He pointed to the right, where an elevator sat open. Vin cocked a curious eyebrow, but didn't say a word as the other two hustled him across to it.

The elevator had a couch.

Vin just blinked as both Buck and Chris sat down – the tall man leaning back and spreading out, while Chris leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped before him. Thinking that they must be expecting him to hit the button, he turned as the doors closed and stopped.

No control panel. Just an emergency panel.

The elevator shifted slightly, indicating movement, and Vin's eyes widened.

"They control it from down below, kid," Buck said, sighing as he leaned deeper into the couch. "That way, they make sure you go to the floor they designate."

The bounty hunter just shook his head, too amazed to speak.

Chris looked up curiously as Vin's hands clenched slightly. Man doesn't like elevators, the detective realized with an amused smile. Looking across at Buck, it was obvious no help to ease the bounty hunter's discomfort would be forthcoming, so he sighed and caught Vin's eyes.

"So how many guards did you spot down there?"

Vin looked back at him, absently rubbing his hands on the side of his jeans. "Four...two by the door, with the doorman, and two in the lobby, guarding the guy at the desk."

Buck whistled, nodding approvingly. "Impressive, Tanner. You missed two, but you did better than me when we first came here. Chris, of course, spotted all six straight off."

"And both the doorman and desk clerk are trained specialists," Vin said.

Chris grinned at Buck, "He's got a good eye."

Vin smiled at them, then staggered a little as the elevator stopped. The dial above the door read nineteen.

"Not the penthouse?" Vin said cheekily, stepping out of the small space. He stopped dead again as he looked at the entrance hall. It was as elaborate as the one downstairs, except the marble was a paler shade, and the dominant color was pale green, complete with a large number of spider and pothos plants.

"Will this do, sir?" Buck said, grinning as he sidled passed. "I'm sure Ezra's mother would have preferred the penthouse as well, but I'm afraid someone even richer than her lives up there."

Vin raised his eyebrows, "Ezra's mother?"

"A woman with more lives than a cat, and the conning skills of a shapeshifter," Chris said curtly. "This is her place. Ezra lives here when she's not in town, which is most of the year."

"My God," Vin shook his head, "lucky guy, isn't he?"

Buck's smile fell some, and Chris's stony countenance seemed to darken. Vin frowned, surprised.

"Trust me, Tanner," Chris said, "you would not want that woman as your mother. Compared to her, a barracuda seems like a goldfish."

"Oh, come now, Chris," Buck smiled, "she does love him, you know, in her own way."

"Doesn't make it right," the blond replied angrily. "If it were up to me, I'd lock her up and throw away the key. Lord knows she...."

"Gentlemen!" Ezra greeted heartily, opening the double doors in front of them, "You've finally arrived."

+ + + + + + +

As he walked through the large apartment, stopping several times to gaze with wonder out the numerous picture windows facing the park, Vin noticed that there was a real sense of disuse to most of the apartment. If he were to guess, he would say that Ezra really only used about three of the rooms in it – the kitchen, living room and his own bedroom. The rest of the rooms, including a dining room, den, two guest rooms and what could pass as an office were all covered with a fine sheen of dust.

Ezra brought them into the living room, where he swept back a large pile of papers and books from off the long table and indicated for them to sit. Wandering into the kitchen, he returned with a tray of glasses and Sam Adams, and one iced tea.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Tanner?" he asked, setting a glass in front of him and cracking open one of the beers to pour into it. Vin raised an eyebrow, thinking that, because of his injuries, he was the one going to get the iced tea.

"Fine, headache and some sore bruises, but otherwise, fine," the bounty hunter said, watching as Ezra finished handing out the beers then took the iced tea for himself. Buck propped his feet up on the table, something which got him an annoyed look from Ezra. Chris reached across and knocked the feet off.

"Good, good," Ezra took a sip, "I would have been there myself, but I'm afraid I had another case to finish up. By tomorrow, however, I should be able to put all my energies into dealing with your problem."

Vin frowned, disliking that man's tone. Ezra had slipped into lawyer talk again, and he found the speech aggravating. Not noticing, Ezra stared vaguely at the papers at the end of the table, looking as if he were calculating the amount of time it would take him to distill them into a workable format. Buck started tapping his fingers on his legs.

"When are the others getting here?"

Ezra looked startled for a moment, as if they had broken his concentration about something, "Oh, um, not long. Josiah just called me from the subway station, just before you arrived. In fact..." At that moment a light chiming sound came from the direction of the doorway, and Ezra smiled. Getting up, he wandered away. The faint sounds of people talking floated back, sounding a bit as if they were coming over speakers, then they heard the unmistakable sound of Ezra opening the door.

Chris put a hand over his face, "Oh Lord, he heard us talking before we came in."

"I'm sure your remark about his mother went over very smoothly," Buck laughed. Vin shook his head, then looked up as JD and Josiah walked in. The young secretary was by his side in moments, peppering him with questions about his health. Vin answered them as best he could. Buck and Chris asked Josiah about the police station, while Ezra disappeared once more into the kitchen to get more drinks. When he returned, he had another beer and a steaming cup of coffee. Josiah grabbed the coffee and took a long draw before sighing contentedly, and JD took the beer.

"Coffee, Josiah?" Vin asked, grinning, watching as Josiah cradled the mug close to his chest.

"Nectar of the gods, Vin," the lawyer replied charmingly.

"Excrement of the gods, more like," Ezra muttered, drinking his tea.

"Explain this to me, Vin," Josiah said with a grin, "have you ever, in your life, met a lawyer who didn't drink coffee like water?"

"Nope."

"Well, you have now. Meet the freak of the legal circles, Mr. I-hate-coffee Standish."

Ezra rolled his eyes and wandered to the end of the table where he had his papers. In minutes, he looked completely absorbed in the work and oblivious to his guests. Josiah sighed and sat down in the chair that Ezra had vacated. He was about to say something else when he saw Vin turn his head to look at Buck and JD, the bounty hunter having heard his name mentioned.

"What I don't get, is why they were trying to kill Vin," JD was saying to Buck, his fingers tapping on the tabletop.

"It's hard to defend a dead man," the detective replied darkly. "Vin is the cops' only suspect, and, at this point, the case would probably just die away if he were to be killed."

"The City is angry, but it is also cheap, JD," Chris said coldly. "They'd be willing to convict posthumously. Vin being dead would solve a lot of people a lot of problems."

"Excuse me," Vin interrupted, "but, if you don't mind, could you not talk about me as if I had died already?"

Chris smiled at him, but it was Josiah who laughed first.

"Oh don't worry Vin," the lawyer said, "Ezra and I would still make sure you were exonerated, maybe even memorialized, wouldn't we, son?"

"Sure," Ezra said absently, his eyes scanning some document or other, "In fact, if Mr. Dunne would be so kind as to go into the building with you next time, he might be able to get a dying declaration out of you declaring your innocence if you were killed." Green eyes shone with amusement as he looked up briefly, "Presumption of truth, don't you know. Then you could be a true martyr to justice."

"I think I could be a very vengeful ghost," Vin hissed back at him. Dimples creased themselves across Ezra's face as he turned back to his papers.

"Well, now that we've deposited the package, we just wanted to let y'all know that we plan on visiting the Black Rose this evening before heading home," Buck said casually. Vin straightened in his seat, all mirth gone from his face.

Chris shook his head at him, "Don't even ask, Tanner. You're not coming. You want them to see us coming?"

Vin gritted his teeth, but he nodded slowly.

"Tomorrow we plan on hitting some of the snitches around town. You are welcome to join us then, so long as you promise not to be too obvious. Wear a T-shirt and jeans, and we'll get you a cap to cover up that hair."

"Canal Street?" Buck asked, scratching at the five o'clock shadow on his face.

"Yeah, good a place as any to start," Chris looked back at Vin. "Chinatown is thick in terms of drugs and gambling, and there are people there who will be able to tell you not only what is happening in the drug scene in Queens, but the scenes in Miami, LA, Detroit, you name it. Besides, Buck has a crushes on some of the girls in the bakeries down there, and some of them reciprocate with free food," he grinned. "Free breakfast."

"Yes, the women down there are really something," Buck sighed happily. "So much beauty in one place." In the background, JD rolled his eyes.

"Both Ezra and I will be down at the courts tomorrow, care to meet us for lunch?" Josiah asked, finishing his coffee. Ezra's eyes flitted up, then returned back to his papers.

"Sounds like a plan. Call us when you get out of court. Where will you be?"

"We'll both be at 60 Center Street, so we can walk up to Chinatown and meet you there."

"Deal," Chris stood, grabbing his beer by the neck and downing it quickly. Following his lead, Buck did the same.

"See you in the morning, Tanner," Buck grinned, tapping Vin on the shoulder. "Have fun staying here at the mausoleum."

"Ha ha, Mr. Wilmington," Ezra said, not looking up.

"What time?" Vin asked.

"7:30?"

"Sounds good."

"Are we leaving too?" JD asked Josiah. The lawyer shook his head.

"Nah, can't leave Vin alone on his first night here, now, can we? I say we take advantage of that huge TV in the den that Ez never uses and check out what's on."

Vin grinned, especially at the slightly pained expression on Ezra's face. Leaving the young lawyer alone with his papers, the other three wandered away into the other room.

"How come you don't have to prepare for tomorrow, Josiah?" Vin asked as they settled down on a large couch. JD started to look for the remote, pushing aside old magazines, books and tapes in his search.

Josiah smiled, "Oh, I'm only going to get come continuances and make a few simple motions, nothing serious. I cleared my plate to help with your case, as did Ezra. He's been working nearly non-stop since I told him about you, trying to get through his stuff. I usually have more cases, but right now they're all small – housing court, arraignments, juvenile hearings, that sort of things. These days, I let Ezra take the large cases, since he loves the challenge of them. Me, I'm too old."

"Too old?" Vin snorted, "You can't be much over fifty." He stood when JD started digging into the couch looking for the remote.

"Twenty years as a defense lawyer in New York can wear a man down, Vin. When I finally went into private practice six years ago, I promised myself I would try to be more relaxed, take on less explosive cases." Josiah stood next as JD looked at his seat.

"And yet, here you are taking on my case," Vin frowned, sitting down again with the older lawyer. JD had moved on to a different chair.

"What we wish for and what we actually want are rarely the same, Vin," Josiah replied sleepily, his smile deepening, "I got what I wanted."

"Found it!" JD said happily, holding up the remote.

Part Seven – The Black Rose

It being a weekday night, and fairly early in the week, the area around the bar was quiet, but inside things seemed to be thumping. Loud music and a rolling beat pumped out from the black facade, while neon lights advertising the bar's vendors in the dark tinted windows and a large purple sign announcing the bar's name over the door pulsed almost in time. Shouting and laughter from somewhere inside the bleak place further belied the rather dismal setting.

"Sounds like a fun place," Buck said, pulling his hat lower over his eyes. Both men were back in the shadows of an alleyway close to the entrance, watching and waiting to see who entered and left.

"We're not far from Flushing, Main," Chris replied, pulling out the unlit cigar in his mouth and pursing his lips. "It's a good location. Probably does pretty well for the area."

Buck humphed, thinking about the area they lived in down in Brooklyn, and their own bars. They rarely came up to Queens, except on jobs, and the cowboy had never gotten used to it, disliking everything from the people to the supposed "smell" of the borough. Even the courthouse here, a historic landmark and an attractive building in its own right, seemed an ugly thing to him. Chris called it neighborhood prejudice. The blond detective had grown up in Bayside, Queens, a nice area close to the water not far from here, so he felt as comfortable in Queens as anywhere. He was even a Mets fan. Buck rooted for the Yankees, in part because he loved to mock the other's "ugly-ass purple stadium." Subway series were always a fun time at their place.

"How much longer you want to wait out here? Last call will be in a couple of hours," Buck noted, scratching at the five o'clock shadow, "and I wouldn't mind a snifter."

"I haven't seen anyone I recognize yet. I want to know who comes here. Maybe then we can figure out what Travis was looking for," Chris frowned, "and who Eli Joe was working for."

"So you're sure that Tanner was set up," Buck asked casually.

"Ezra and Josiah both believe so."

"Yeah. But you seem to know." The remark was quiet, but the emphasis Buck placed on the word know was blatantly obvious. Chris looked over, arching an eyebrow. Eventually, he sighed lightly and nodded.

"Something about him. S'true I've never met him before, but I trusted him instantly, like I'd known him for years. Never known anyone like that. Not even Sarah...not even you."

Buck smiled slightly, "Yeah, well, I'm all too aware it took you way too damn long to trust me. For the first six months we were partnered together on the force, you looked at me like a damn rottweiler waiting for me to attack. I swear, I think I even saw you bare your teeth at me several times."

"Well, how was I supposed to know there was a poodle under all that Texan grit?" Chris was grinning now, the smile widening as Buck snorted.

"Poodle? I change my mind. You weren't a rottweiler, Larabee, you were a chihuahua. All yip and no class."

Chris had to cover his mouth to stop from laughing, shoving Buck in the arm when the cowboy's smirk threatened to become too obnoxious. After a moment, he was calm enough to whisper "yip, yip," in Buck's ear. His partner had to cover his own face to stop from laughing.

"Nice bit of surveillance we're doing," Buck muttered through his hands, taking deep breaths.

But Chris was no longer listening. All the mirth was gone from his face as he stared intently at the doors to the Black Rose. Sensing the change, Buck dropped his hands and followed the gaze.

"Yates just went in. But that ain't the worst of it. He was with Bob Spikes."

"Spikes...." Buck frowned. "Then we're talking Guy Royal."

"Yep. The Collector himself."

"Well," Buck pushed his hat up and smiled thinly, "I think it's time we went and got that drink, don't you?"

+ + + + + + +

Chris went in first, head down, blond scraggly hair tucked up inside an old beat up Mets hat. For tonight, he had traded in the usual black threads for a dun brown leather jacket and old blue jeans. Nothing about him signaled him out, except the intensity of his glare, so he kept his eyes pointed downwards for the most part. After quietly ordering a Bud, he retreated to a corner near the office door and made it plain he didn't want to be disturbed. Still, one woman, having seen him enter and liking his build, started to walk up to him. One dark look with those intense blue-black eyes had her turning in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later, Buck wandered in and went straight for the woman Chris had warned off. She was sitting with three others, and he soon had them all in conversation. Like Chris, he blended in, just in the opposite fashion. No one saw Chris, because he hid in the shadows, and no one saw Buck because the cowboy hid in plain sight. Both men, without seeming to, watched the room like hawks.

After a while, Chris disappeared, edging around the corner to the back stairs and silently making his way up. Buck had pulled the women over to the bar near the office door with the promise of buying them all the most expensive drinks they could think up using the spirits they could see there, and allowed himself to be pushed up almost against the office door. With one well trained ear, he strained to pick up anything that might be going on inside.

He picked up the strains of an argument between two people – a man and a woman. The man he could hear had a thick Brooklyn accent, which would be Bob Spikes, the woman, though, was clearly from Queens, and her voice had a scratchy quality to it – as if she were a much older woman.

Just then, one of the girls he was courting said something, and he grinned and pulled out his wallet as the bartender wandered over.

+ + + + + + +

Chris crept down the corridor above the bar slowly, his feet not making a sound on the concrete flooring. At each room, he listened and waited, making sure the lack of light he saw coming out from under the doorframes really meant the room was empty. Just as he was about to reach the last two rooms, one of which did have light coming out from under it, he heard the unmistakable sound of someone coming up the stairs behind him. Checking each knob, he quickly found an open door and ducked inside just as the person came round the corner.

Leaning against the now closed door and trying to calm his breathing, he listened as the person on the other side walked past, probably down to the room at the end. Several swift knocks and an order to enter came floating down, and the end door opened and shut again.

Judging the coast to be clear, Chris was reaching to turn the knob and exit when a noise behind him startled him into pulling his gun. In the blue-black shadows of the room, the music of the bar below thumping up through the floorboards, he slowly discerned the shape of a bed...and someone sitting up in it.

Someone small.

"Who are you?" A young voice -- a girl's voice, he realized -- asked the question in a shaky whisper. Lowering the gun, Chris did his best to search the room for anyone else, but the darkness was too complete. He heard then the girl fumbling for what was probably a light-switch.

"No, please!" he whispered, much more loudly than he intended. The girl stopped, then started fumbling again. Chris threw a hand across his face as the room burst into light so that it wouldn't blind him. When he lowered it, a girl of maybe sixteen was squinting at him, her brown mousy hair framing a heart shaped face. Instead of scared, she looked...angry.

"Who are you," she demanded again, pulling her bedsheets up over a thin nightdress. "How did you get in here? The door was locked!"

"Uh...no, it wasn't," Chris tried smiling, but the look did nothing for him. If anything, the girl became angrier. Then, suddenly, she tilted her head.

"You a cop?"

The question was so surprising, it completely took him off guard. "What?"

"If you're hiding from them, then you're either a cheat that double crossed them, a loser than bungled something important up for them, or a cop. You don't look pathetic enough to be a cheat or a loser." She spoke slowly and confidently. Frowning, he reassessed her age, as she now seemed much older. He also noted that she kept her voice in a whisper, though she could easily have yelled out by now.

"I'm not a cop," Chris replied, "though I was once, not too long ago. I'm a private detective."

She nodded, "Ah, I see. And your name?"

Chris hesitated, and the girl sighed. "All right, I get it," she said. "Look, I don't know what you're up here looking for, but, believe me, you don't want to find it. My aunt's in enough trouble with those men down the hall, and, honestly, unless you promise to leave quick, I have no qualms about turning you in if it means I can do something good for her."

"Your aunt?"

The girl frowned, then raised both eyebrows. "You telling me you don't know who my aunt is?"

Chris matched her look, "Uh, well...."

"Some detective," she snorted. "My aunt's the owner, Nettie Wells. I'm her niece, Casey. I live here when I'm not in school."

"School?"

"College. Vassar. Just finished Junior year. American Culture major. Anything else you need to know?"

Chris attempted his smile again, "Well, uh, you could tell me if Yates is down that hall and who he might be talking to." The smile on his face faded as Casey lowered her eyes and shook her head.

"I think you need to leave now."

Chris's expression darkened, "Is it Guy Royal?"

Her face flinched, and she stared back up at him, her gaze steady. "I said, I think you should leave now."

All attempts at lightness gone, Chris met her gaze, drowning her. She lowered her eyes again as he nodded agreement.

"I'm gone. But I can't promise I won't be back."

"Figured as much. Just try to keep me and my aunt out of it, okay?"

Chris nodded again, though she didn't see it as her head was still lowered. She drew her bedclothes up higher and the innocence returned to her demeanoe. Reaching over, she turned off the light and buried her head.

Once more in the dark, Chris listened again at the door, and, not hearing anything, twisted the knob. The latch clicked, but before he opened it, he looked back to the lump on the bed.

"Larabee," he whispered across the room. "My name's Chris Larabee. Seventh floor of the 4C building on Lex. You need help, you go there."

Whether she heard or not, she never made a sound as he slipped quietly out again.

In the corridor, he noticed that the room at the end of the hall was now dark; no light shone from under it. Frowning, he listened for a minute, then made his way back down into the bar below. With a nod to Buck, the two men left and headed home.

After a few blocks, they hopped a cab and settled back.

"Spikes, Yates and Royal," Buck muttered quietly, "Talk about a motley crew. But I don't remember Royal being deep into drugs. Last I heard, he was still making a killing off of his extortion rings."

"I'm guessing the woman who owns the Black Rose is one of his victims. I ran into her niece upstairs and, though she tried to hide it, it was easy to see how scared the girl was for her aunt and herself."

"Her niece," Buck risked a sly grin, "Was she cute?"

"Buck...." Chris nearly rolled his eyes, instead he just pulled the brim of his cap lower.

The cowboy grinned wider. "Just checking, stud."

"She's just a kid. Not much younger than JD. Sounds pretty smart too." Chris shook his head, "You know, if the aunt loves Casey as much as Casey loves her aunt, then I wouldn't be surprised to know that Nettie Wells would do almost anything to keep that girl safe. Maybe even help in a murder."

Buck's smile had faded as he took in the information. Outside the car windows, the dark buildings of Queens turned into the dark buildings of Brooklyn.

Part Eight -- Chinatown

The alarm buzzed loudly in Vin's ear, jolting him awake in a confusing mess of images. A quick search revealed his surroundings, but it was still discomforting to awaken in a place so...opulent. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled out of the huge bed in Ezra's spare room and found slippers waiting on the floor. Arching an eyebrow, he looked at them a moment before trying them on.

Oddly, they fit.

Padding across the room to the bathroom, he took a short shower and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. Then, still wearing the slippers, he moved across to the large double doors and pushed out into the hall to make his way to the kitchen. A note sat on the table with instructions on how to use the coffee maker. Grimacing, he followed the instructions then sat down to look out the window at Central Park. A breeze brushed across the tops of the trees, and the sky above was heavy with rainclouds. It looked to be a lovely early summer day in New York.

"Morning," said a tired voice behind him. Startled, Vin turned around to see Ezra slip into the kitchen and head straight for the cabinet with the coffee in it.

"I thought you were gone already," Vin replied. "I made coffee."

"I know," the reply was curt, but not mean. "And I wrote the note last night. Just didn't want you waking me up should you get up before me."

"Oh," Vin nodded and leaned back as Ezra reached into the cabinet and pulled down a canister of Assam tea. With the help of the microwave to boil the water, the lawyer soon had a steaming mug and was busy making toast.

"You want something to eat?" Ezra asked.

Vin shrugged, "Whaddya got?"

"Toast."

"Great."

Ezra threw two slices in Vin's direction. When it appeared that nothing to put on them was going to be offered, the former bounty hunter ate them dry.

At that moment, voices in the foyer alerted the two men that Chris and the others had arrived. The doorbell rang once.

"Don't the guards buzz you when someone is to come up?" Vin asked as he followed a still bathrobe wearing Ezra to the door.

"Told them last night who I was expecting and why."

"Oh," Vin scratched at his shaven face, thinking he had been saying "oh" a lot lately. In front, Ezra opened the doors to let in Chris, Buck and a tall black man Vin had never seen before.

"Vin Tanner," Ezra said, backing up a touch, "Doctor Nathan Jackson."

The black man smiled and held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, Vin. These two tell me that I'm to be in charge of making sure you don't get whacked."

Vin had taken the hand, but the "whacked" comment had him glaring at two grinning detectives in the background. "I am not planning on being whacked, Doc, but I'll try to make sure the rest of you aren't in the way when I take down the guy who framed me."

Nathan chuckled and let go, his strong grip leaving Vin's fingers tingling slightly. He then took to looking around the apartment, and whistled slightly. It was obviously his first time here.

"Nice place, Ez," he said, smiling. "Had to chase a few ambulances to get this one, huh?"

"Oh, I just follow your patients around, Nathan. Sooner or later, they all have thick malpractice suits on their hands."

Nathan frowned a little, then smiled again. "At least I don't charge them their life savings every time they come in for a consult."

"Funny, that's not what I heard from Mrs. Bremminger."

Nathan sent him a sharp look, obviously surprised. Ezra, though, was grinning.

"How do you know Mrs. Bremminger," the doctor demanded tightly, his eyes narrowing. Ezra just grinned more brightly.

"Uh, come on, Nate. I think we best be going now." Buck tugged on the doctor's arm, but Nathan didn't look like he was going to move, his eyes still glued to Ezra's smiling face. Finally, Chris took a fistful of arm and pulled Nathan away.

"How does he know Mrs. Bremminger?" Nathan asked them, still nonplussed. Vin glanced back as Ezra shut the doors behind them, the lawyer still grinning widely.

"Maybe Josiah said something? Did you tell him about her?" Buck was steering Nathan into the elevator, as he didn't look as if he were aware of where he was going. The doctor's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the possibility, then his frown deepened.

"Oh hell, I'm going to kill Sanchez. Tell your best friend something in confidence, and what does he do? Blabs it to the nearest scheming, low-life he can find. I'll kill him."

By this time, all three others were smiling, even Vin, though he had been trying not to, not knowing the doctor too well. But, by the time the elevator hit the ground, they were all ready to begin the hunt.

"There are a mess of informers that we know of in Chinatown, any of which may have information to sell, but it would have been hard to know which was kosher. But, luckily, we have an idea what it is we are looking for now." Chris was leading the way down the block to the subway with Vin by his side. Nathan and Buck were walking behind.

"Something happened at the Black Rose then?" Vin asked casually, his hands behind his back. He disliked the feel of not having his shoulder holster on; it made him feel somehow undressed, or as if he'd forgotten something important.

"Yup. But we're not sure how it all works yet. That bar is, we think, under the thumb of a serial extortionist named Guy Royal," he glanced at Vin, but no recognition hit the man's face, "and we think that may have been whom Travis was after. Thing is, as far as we know, Royal is not into drugs. It's not his style. But, then again, he may be branching out. I spoke with some friends of mine on the force this morning, and, from what they've heard, Royal has gotten his fingers sticky in the black market recently for some reason. As to what he is buying or selling, they're not sure. Could be drugs, could be guns, could be women, it's not clear to them yet, though they all have ideas. All we really know about the man is that he loves money."

"Don't they all?"

"Yeah, but this one makes Hugh Hefner seem almost subtle in his tastes. Royal is a materialist to the tenth degree. The more stuff he has, the better. Once, back when I was a cop, we raided one of his warehouses, purely by chance, and it was packed from floor to ceiling with furniture, art, clothing, cars....Unfortunately, we couldn't prove that Royal had gotten those things illegally. He said they were all "gifts" from grateful clients. We couldn't even catch him on tax evasion, as he had meticulously included every one on his statements." Chris shrugged, moving down the steps of the subway with Vin close on his heels. "But drugs was never part of his M.O. except as a means of blackmail if he found out someone else did them. He doesn't buy or sell them himself."

"But Eli Joe does."

"Yeah," Chris pursed his lips. "Tell me, is that all he does?"

"According to his sheet and what I've seen while tracking him, yeah."

"Odd."

The subway train pulled into the station as Buck and Nathan caught up with them.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra was pulling down the sleeves on his jacket when the phone rang. For a moment he considered not answering it, as he was about to leave, but, thinking it might be Josiah, he picked it up and cradled it on his shoulder as he straightened his tie in the mirror.

"Yes?"

"Ezra Standish?"

He immediately stopped fiddling with the tie and held the phone tighter. "Who is this?"

"If you keep your license to practice and not get thrown in jail for what you did for Farron, then stay away from the Travis case."

Ezra's fingers tightened around the phone, "I don't take kindly to threats. Who is this?"

But the dial tone sounded in his ear before he'd even finished the sentence. Grimacing, he checked his tie one more time and hung the phone up in the cradle, holding it in place for a moment. Then, lifting it up, he quickly dialed Josiah's cell phone.

After a moment, static met his ear and his partner answered with a tired hello.

"It's me. Has anyone called you this morning about the Tanner case?"

"What?" A sound like a yawn accompanied the question.

"Tanner's case. Anyone called you?"

"You mean like one of Larabee's boys?"

"No. I mean, like someone warning you off."

Josiah was silent for a moment, "No."

"All right. Listen, I'll see you down at court."

"You going to tell me...?"

"Yeah. See you in a bit." Hanging up, Ezra shook his head and sighed. Damn.

+ + + + + + +

As Buck had promised, upon reaching the heart of Chinatown, they went into one of the bakeries and came out with free breakfast. The girls behind the counter, just as had the ones the night before in the bar, and the nurses at the hospital, were all completely infatuated with Buck. All he had to do was smile, and they would have done anything. Shaking his head, Vin ate his sesame ball with silent amusement as he dodged the thick crowds on Canal Street. He tried to remember when he'd seen so many people in one place.

Chris finished the coffee he had gotten and adjusted his shoulders inside the long black leather coat he wore. "Buck, you and Nathan look around here and check in with Harry, Jake and Lee. Vin and me will head down towards the bridge and find some of the others." Buck and Nate nodded agreement and headed west, while Chris tilted his head for Vin to follow him as he walked down Mott Street.

The constant dodging of the heavy pedestrian traffic was beginning to get on the bounty hunter's nerves when Chris abruptly turned down a small alleyway. The quietude of the alley was such a stark contrast to the street they had just left that, for a moment, Vin wondered if they'd stepped into a time warp. Unawares, Chris walked down a ways, then ducked under a fire escape to knock on a low back door. The word "deliveries" was written on the back in both English and Chinese.

A quick short burst of Chinese echoed out of the still closed door, to which Chris replied with his name. Nothing happened for a while, as whoever was inside went to consult someone else. A couple of minutes later, the door opened and Chris ducked inside with Vin on his heels.

They stepped down a series of steps into a cold basement, the damp, black walls emitting a sickly light where they reflected four naked hanging bulbs. Beneath one, the Chinese man they had been following turned around and crossed muscled arms. His dark eyes darted between Chris and Vin with the speed of a weasel, and his lips curled slightly in derision.

"Whaddya want this time, Larabee?" he asked.

"There's been talk about Marshal Yates and the Collector getting together. I want to know what you've heard."

The Chinese man pursed his lips and scratched at his nose. Looking down at the blackened concrete floor, he shrugged. "How much?"

"Usual."

"This is darker stuff than the usual. Murders of big DA's are darker."

Chris smiled, happy to have found confirmation without having to dig. The smile didn't last long. "One and a half."

"Double."

"I don't have that kind of money."

"Word is your working for the bleeding heart and the green snake. Green snake has money, doesn't he?"

Chris shook his head and caught Vin's eye. The former bounty hunter was busy pretending to inspect his shoes.

"Pro Bono, Tee, you know how that is. And you know perfectly well that Standish's money is a silkscreen. One and a half."

"Then you get one and a half information." Tee smiled, showing off several gaps. Chris's eyes narrowed.

"Fine. See you later Tee. There are plenty more like you around, who maybe aren't so greedy."

The Chinese man's smile fell, and he shrugged. Without seeing them out, he disappeared out of another door in the basement room and was soon lost to the hearing. Vin arched an eyebrow.

"Tee's one of the best," Chris replied to the unspoken question, "but he isn't the only one. Lots of people know many things, and besides, he did give us confirmation, whether he meant to or not. Makes it a little easier."

Vin nodded and backed up as Chris led the way back to the stairs to the alley.

+ + + + + + +

A couple of hours later, they found someone who was willing to talk for the "usual amount." Unfortunately, what they learned wasn't much. The informer was an old grandmotherly type who ran one of the dress shops on Mullberry street. She tended to sit in the alley at the back of her shop while her children actually ran the store, and her eyes and ears caught far more than anyone realized. Anyone, that is, except Chris. He'd done a favor for her a long time ago, when he was still a cop, by helping one of her kids avoid a jail sentence, and she reciprocated with information. But this time, she had to admit to not knowing as much as she'd like.

"Most of the news is second hand," she whispered, rocking back and forth in her chair and working on an embroidery. "Whatever is going on, it's outside the credit unions down here which, you well know, is a rare thing. So, I've only heard the rumors."

"What are the rumors, Zhang?"

"Oh...that someone set up some southern boy to take the rap on that DA's murder. The handsome one, you know? Something Travis."

"And are they saying who that someone is? Or why they might have done it?"

She smiled slightly, lifting up the folds of skin that rested around her lips and jowls, and her eyes sparkled a bit as she looked at Vin. "Are you the poor southern boy?"

Vin smiled wryly, but didn't answer. She chuckled, her hand pulling the needle through the tiny embroidery. It looked like it was turning into a butterfly.

Chris sighed, trying not to be impatient, "Zhang?"

She smiled at him and set the embroidery down, "Well, they say the Collector's got his hand stuck in a cookie jar he wasn't supposed to be in. I think he tried to muscle in on some of the Russian aid money being embezzled out from the banks, but ended up on the wrong end of a drug deal somehow. He cashed in and got out, but left a lot of fingerprints. Not surprising seeing as he don't know what way is up in that market. Anyway, when the feds broke the Russian ring couple of years back, they found the suggestion of a link to the drugs and to Royal. But they didn't have proof. Travis, they say, found proof. And he went to that bar to find it."

"Proof. Do you know what the proof was?"

"Nope."

She continued to rock in her chair, smiling at them. After a moment, she picked up the embroidery and started again. Chris nodded and motioned to Vin that it was time to leave.

"Thank you," the Texan said, meeting her eyes and nodding. If anything, her smile grew wider.

"Sweet looking boy," she nodded at him, "Detective Larabee will help you, don't worry. And, when its over, you come back. I'll fix that hole in that jacket of yours." She nodded to the small tear in Vin's coat, something he hadn't noticed himself. Fingering it, he smiled again at her and wandered away after Chris.

+ + + + + + +

They met up with the others again in a buffet place around the corner from the intersection of Broadway and Canal. Buck and Nathan were already there, looking a bit disgruntled but not completely unhappy. After Chris and Vin sat down, they spent a few minutes comparing notes before Josiah walked in with Ezra, the two lawyers both wearing very dark expressions. When they sat down, Nathan asked Ezra if he'd sold someone else down the river, and the sarcastic banter the two shot back and forth oddly seemed to cheer both men up.

"So what have you got?" Josiah asked finally, wiping the sauce from the corner of his mouth. Chris chewed on an unlit cigar and answered slowly, his voice low inside the loud cafeteria.

"From what we know now, the mess stems from Guy Royal. By some mishap, he got caught up in a drug deal he didn't want to be involved in, and didn't get away clean. Travis learned about it, probably from the feds, and, seeing as he'd been trying to shut down Royal's operations for a long time, decided to try and attack him from this new angle. Our guess is that he thought he found something."

"Something that led him to the Black Rose," Nathan nodded. "We think it may have to do with the Wells family."

"Miss Casey Wells has been away at school for much of this year, but her aunt Nettie owns the Black Rose, and, from what we can glean, Royal was using her bar as a sort of headquarters for a while. Our guess is, whatever proof Travis hoped to find there is either long gone or never existed. It might simply have been an opportunity for Royal to take down a DA that was too honest, and who was a constant nag on his operation." Pulling the cigar out, Chris played with it in his fingers.

"Any idea what proof Travis may have thought he found?" Ezra asked, leaning back in his plastic chair, his own food barely touched.

"No. But there is another rumor floating out there, one which may be even more useful," Buck said, leaning in. "One that concerns our friend here." As one, the five men looked at Vin, who shrugged. This was something Nate and Buck had learned, but he didn't want to get his hopes up.

"What are you talking about?" Ezra asked, watching the cowboy carefully.

"Word on the street," Nathan said, "Is that there was a witness to the murder. A woman."

Part Nine: Brunettes, Blonds and a Redhead (gone a bit silver)

JD shuffled around the office, poking through files and sniffing at the unfortunate accumulation of dust. He seemed to be doing a lot of shifting lately, shifting this pile to that side of the room, shifting that pile to this side of the room, without much success. Oh, in his mind, he knew he was organizing, but from the objective perspective of an outsider...he was just shifting things.

At least, that's how it looked to Casey Wells as she watched.

Larabee's office had been empty, not even a secretary, but the small law office next door (also the only other occupied office on the floor) was wide open. She wondered if the young man (the very cute young man with rather nice hazel eyes and, as he bent over to pick up something, a very nice...ahem, try not to think of such things Casey), well, she wondered if the young man was airing out the place for spring cleaning. All that paper must create quite a lot of must. But problem was, he was doing absolutely nothing about the trash.

She watched him for a few more minutes before finally working up the nerve to knock on the open door.

Startled, JD turned, looked...and dropped the box of files he'd been holding on his foot.

"Jesus Christ!" he shouted, dropping to the floor to grab at his toe. Darting inside, Casey started apologizing and pushing the box to the side, then she remembered that it was his clumsiness and not hers, so she began to remark on that fact as she buzzed around looking for something which might have ice in it. The small fridge under the coffee maker however, yielded no such wonder. When she turned around, she found that he was just staring at her, a little dumbfounded as she held up a water bottle.

"It's cold," she suggested, bringing it across. She blushed as she realized how stupid that statement was.

"If I were thirsty instead of in pain, I'm sure I'd be glad of that," he answered, frowning and putting his hands under himself to get up. She held out a hand, but he studiously ignored it. Brushing off his knees, he straightened and looked around for something to lean on as he took the water bottle and placed it on his desk.

"Can I help you?" he asked, hopping over to where his chair sat. He leaned on the back of it and raised his eyebrows.

Casey blushed, "Oh well, um, I'm not sure. I was actually here looking for the detective down the hall, and, well, he's not there and I saw your door open and...." She floundered a bit, waving her arms a bit, "And, well, I thought, since you're on the same floor, you might know where...but that's silly. Why would you know? You're just on the same floor, right? So, um, I'm sorry to bother you, and I'm sorry about your foot, though, really, I mean, I don't know what I exactly did to make you drop it, but I don't really think it's my fault that you're so clumsy and, um, I did try to find some ice; its not my fault you don't have any, just bottles of water and well, if you think about it, you really did this to yourself...." Smiling suddenly, she stopped talking, and tried to decide whether it would be more or less dignified to turn away now and start running, or to wait for him to say something...and then start running.

JD couldn't resist a small smile back. The reason he'd dropped the box was not because she'd shocked him, but because he had been instantly taken by her. She was pretty, no, more than pretty, with long brown hair tied loosely back in a pony tail, and the sweetest looking face he'd ever seen. Faces like hers didn't exist in New York City, or, if they did, they never lasted long. She was wearing a short patterned blouse over long brown pants, and, believe it or not, cowboy boots. Upon first sight, he'd fallen hard. Literally.

He felt a bit less taken now. She talked a bit too much. And what was with that attitude?

But she was damn cute.

"Actually," he said, standing up a bit straighter and straightening his shirt to make himself seem older, "I know Chris Larabee pretty well. He works for us from time to time." The attempt at a snobbish tone was not lost on Casey, who frowned slightly in puzzlement.

"Us?"

"This is a law office, Standish and Sanchez, L.P."

"L.P?"

"Limited Partnership. In fact, Chris and Buck are working on a case of ours right now."

"Ours...," she looked him over and raised an eyebrow, "You know, you don't really look like a lawyer. You're not old enough. Certainly can't be older than me."

Like a storm rushing in over the water, JD's face darkened instantly. "I'm older than I look," he replied petulantly. "And, speaking of ages, I can't understand why a kid like you would be talking about that sort of thing. You can't possibly be old enough to afford the services of detectives."

Casey raised both eyebrows at that one and actually smiled after a moment. "Ah. Well then, excuse me for disturbing you in all the important legal work you were obviously doing." She looked pointedly at the box he had dropped, then around at the chaotic room. JD followed her gaze, and, as is true of anyone when faced with a half lie, the synapses in his brain snapped, and he became even more arrogant.

"Look, miss...whatever your name is, is there some message I can give them or something? Or are you just hanging around to get on my nerves?"

Casey's face fell then, blanching slightly as she remembered why she was here. Curiosity and some guilt niggled at the boy at the sight. When it looked as if she really would leave then, he took a step forward, wincing slightly as he landed on his bad foot.

"Wait, I'm sorry. I'm being a bit of an ass. You did make me drop a box on my foot you know." When her face regained some of its color at the remark, suggesting she was about to argue again, he quickly started speaking again. "Anyway, Chris Larabee really is working on something for this office right now, and I'm sure to see him later. If you leave your name, I promise he'll get the message."

"You know, I don't think I can," she said, backing away. "In fact, I really shouldn't have come at all but...." she trailed off as the sound of someone walking loudly the hall interrupted her. Instinctively, she shied inside the room, dodging behind the door. Confused, JD started towards her then looked up as Josiah, Vin and Buck walked into the office, all looking tired but not too unhappy.

"Kid, coffee, on the double!" Buck roared plopping himself down in JD's chair and propping his feet up as Vin went to lean on a nearby bookshelf. Josiah headed on into his office without as much as a second glance.

"Buck!" JD grinned and looked back to the door. Casey had tried to make herself really small as she looked at all the new people. Buck followed his gaze, and grinned broadly.

"Well, hell, JD, I didn't know you had a girl!" Jumping to his feet he slapped a large hand against the kid's arm. JD winced and blushed while Vin regarded the scene quietly. There was no recognition on either his or Casey's face as to each other.

"Uh, no, Buck. This here is, um...." he looked at Casey, but she shook her head. "Anyways, she came up here looking for Chris."

"For Chris?" Buck's smile fell a little, as he looked at her more carefully. "Oh, well, sorry miss, if I offended by suggesting you'd be interested in this boy."

Casey frowned, and, almost simultaneously with JD, angrily said, "He's not a boy." For the life of her, she had no idea why she'd suddenly said that. JD glanced at her and gave a quick grin. She blushed, and Buck laughed.

"No, I 'spect he's not. Sorry, Mr. Dunne," Buck tipped his hat at JD, his eyes sparkling. Looking back to Casey, he lightened the wattage somewhat. "Anyways, miss, I'm Chris's partner, Buck Wilmington. You probably saw my name on the door under his. Can I help you?"

She stared at him, then at JD, and back again. "I, well, no. It was Chris Larabee I wanted to talk to. Is he...will he be here soon?" she swallowed thickly, and moved around the door, as if about to bolt. Buck frowned briefly, watching her movements.

"Not for a few hours. Really, miss, I am his partner. I'm pretty sure that, if it has to do with one of our cases, I can help. But, look, even if you don't trust me, at least tell me your name, so that I can tell him you were here."

She looked at her shoes, as if thinking about his offer, then sighed. "Casey Wells," she said. "I met Mr. Larabee...."

"Last night," Buck finished calmly. "When he accidentally used your room to hide."

She looked up, eyes wide. Then, slowly, she nodded. In response, Buck's own features had become completely serious. Standing, he walked over to stand next to her at the door and held out his hand.

"I was at your aunt's place too, just downstairs. I can guess why you are here, Miss Wells, and I can help, I promise." She watched him warily for a moment, then took the hand and shook it. He smiled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that both Vin and JD had straightened up, as if to follow, but he shook his head at them. Looking at Casey, he motioned towards the corridor.

"How about we go back to my office. It's less crowded, and you can tell me what you want in privacy. Chris should be calling in soon, in any case." He smiled again, and she found herself smiling back. Waving a quick goodbye to JD, she turned and followed Buck back to his office.

"Buck always gets the girl," JD whispered under his breath, not sure why he suddenly felt really annoyed at the older man. Vin glanced at him and grinned, shaking his head slightly.

At almost the same moment, Josiah stuck his head out of his door, and looked towards the former bounty hunter.

"Vin, I received a handful of faxes and a messenger delivery of photos that I'd like you to look at. See if you recognize anyone in these shots." As quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared back into his office before Vin could say a word in acknowledgement. Shrugging, Vin noticed the unopened water on JD's desk, against which the kid was morosely leaning, one foot lifted slightly off the floor as if it were in pain. He pointed to the water as he moved in the direction of Josiah's door.

"Hey kid, you gonna drink that?"

+ + + + + + +

"What are you thinking?" Ezra asked casually, walking down west 10th street with Chris and Nathan. He was in the middle, his hands clasped behind his back. He was five foot ten, more than average height, but between Chris and Nathan, both well over six feet, he felt strangely small.

Nathan looked over at the question, and, seeing that it was directed at Chris, returned to checking out the doors on the pretty brick houses that lined this area of the village.

"I was thinking about the supposed witness to Travis's murder," Chris replied. "A woman, the rumors say. If it's true, I may have met her last night. Or perhaps it is her aunt."

"You mean the Wells?" Ezra asked.

"Why not. Maybe that's why Spikes and Yates were there last night, to make sure the old woman and her niece were still keeping quiet."

Nathan shrugged, "Maybe. But, from what we heard, the woman who saw what happened wasn't old...or a kid. You said the niece was just a girl."

"She seemed that way to me, but then," Chris smiled, "Pretty much anyone under thirty five seems a kid to me."

Nathan and Ezra looked at each other. They both fit into that category. They wondered if Chris knew that.

Chris glanced at them and smiled slightly.

Yeah, he knew.

"Smart ass," Nathan muttered, striding forward to walk in front of them. He turned left on Bank Street and started measuring numbers. After a few more steps he stopped and looked up at a pretty but fairly nondescript brick house. It was three stories high, with impatients and ivy trailing from window boxes on the second and third floors as well as crowded around a curtained bay window on the first floor. A plain gold knocker sat on a black painted door, and a black wreath hung from it. On a black and gold plaque next to the front door were the words, "The Clarion Press. Mary Travis, editor."

"Here it is," Nathan said, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Pretty," Chris said, as Ezra jumped up the three stone steps to the front door. The word stopped the lawyer from actually knocking, and he turned to look with a curious glance at the two detectives.

"Did he just say 'pretty?'" he asked Nathan of their black-clad companion. The MD grinned and looked to the ground as Chris did his best to glare.

"Just knock, Standish," he said. Bowing slightly to him, Ezra turned and, after raising his hand to knock, noticed the glowing doorbell. Changing his mind, he reached down and pressed it.

Nothing happened for a few minutes, and Ezra frowned up at the wreath. He was about to press it again when the door opened to reveal a rather austere looking man in his late fifties. What was once dark red hair was silvered at the temples, and what could only be described as a steely eyed stare took in Ezra and his companions through a pair of old fashioned spectacles.

"Yes?"

Ezra smiled, "Hello, sir. My name is...."

"Ezra P. Standish," the man completed for him, causing Ezra's mouth to drop open slightly. "You're representing Tanner."

Ezra's eyebrows shot up, and he turned around to look back at Chris and Nathan, who were both frowning deeply. He turned back to the man in the doorway. For some reason, an image of this man standing on a dusty street in the old west holding onto a double barreled coachgun on him came to mind. Shaking the image from his mind, he squinted slightly and tried smiling again.

"Ah, sir, I'm afraid you have me at a bit of a disadvantage. You seem to know me but...."

The old man snorted and opened the door wider. "Forgotten me already, eh boy? I never forget anyone who has been in my courtroom, even if you were only there once or twice. Once under less than reputable circumstances, if I remember correctly. You were damned lucky Sanchez was there representing you at the time."

Ezra swallowed thickly, and took a step back down the steps. "Judge Travis, of course. I should have...uh...It's good to see you again, sir. But, erm, you know what? I think this is probably a fairly bad time, so, if it's all right with you, I'll, uh, come back later. Or perhaps, not me, but Josiah. Yes, that seems a much better idea." Ezra had been backing down the steps slowly, while Chris and Nathan watched, not sure whether to be amused or worried.

"Grab him!" the judge commanded, and, oddly, Chris did just that. He snatched Ezra's arm and held him in place. Ezra gave him a look of utter betrayal, to which Chris just shrugged slightly. Nathan decided at that point that he was far more amused than worried, and started grinning widely.

"Get in here, all of you. There is no better time, Standish, as I'll be staying here with my daughter-in-law all week, so you may as well come in now. I expect you'll be wanting to see my boy's papers, and meet Mary." He turned around and stalked away inside, leaving the door open. The three men looked at each other, then, with Chris still partly dragging Ezra, they went up the steps and into the house.

Down the street, the tinted window in a small, dark green sedan closed, hiding from view the figure that had just been taking photographs of the meeting. The butt of a cigarette was thrown out just before the window closed completely.

+ + + + + + +

Casey Wells shifted a little in the leather seat, looking around at the cramped office Buck called his home away from home. It was decorated in an overtly southwestern style, with objects so trite it was almost blinding. She kept expecting to turn around and see the horns of a longhorn sitting above the doorway. Instead, there was an old Remington rifle, aged sometime late last century. That was the only interesting object. Everything else was gas station chic.

Buck sat at his desk, pushing aside papers looking for a legal pad with some empty pages in it. After a while, he gave up and pulled out what looked to be a small tape recorder out of his desk.

"Can I record this?" he asked, smiling kindly. She shrugged and nodded. Sighing with relief, he thanked her and, after testing to make sure it had tape in it, set it down to record.

"I take terrible notes," he said, "More like scrawl, really. Chris got me this to make up for it. Nice, huh? Getting a bit beat up though."

"You've had it a while?" She said, looking at the recorder. She could see dents in it, and what looked to be mud crusted on one side.

"Yep. Almost three weeks now."

She lowered her head to hide a smile, then looked up again. He had leaned back and had his boots propped up on the desk.

"Miss Casey Wells, just finished junior year at Vassar. Your aunt Nettie runs the Black Rose in Queens." His eyes watched her carefully, noting that her smile had gone again. She was nodding again.

"Vassar....You must be clever, huh?" he said, trying to put her at ease. She shrugged again.

"My friends used to love telling me I was very smart," she replied, "but that I had no common sense. I run into walls a great deal." She laughed slightly, nervously, and looked up at him.

Buck was smiling, "Yeah, well, running into walls is not a crime. My mother used to complain because I was always losing my things. I'd always tell her they were stolen, which of course wasn't true, and she knew it. Finally, one day, she replied by telling me I should become a cop. Then I could be the one finding things, instead of having them stolen."

Casey smiled, "Smart woman."

"Miss Wells, why are you here?"

She sighed and leaned back in her own chair, making her seem even smaller than her already tiny frame. "Because I think my aunt is in more trouble than she is telling me."

"Trouble with Guy Royal?"

Casey nodded, "Yeah. I figured out last Christmas that he was blackmailing her for something, when I found him living in the Rose with us. We used to rent those upper rooms, but now he controls all but mine and my aunt's. But my aunt always told me she was almost free of him. All this semester she wrote me letters to that effect. But when I came home this time for the summer...it was worse."

"Worse?"

"Not only was he still here, but my aunt looked scared out of her wits by something. Twice, she sneaked into my room, telling me I need to get away, go hide with my uncle in Michigan, but...I couldn't just leave her. Finally, I agreed to go away for a weekend, to see a friend in Connecticut. When I came back, it was to find the Rose surrounded by yellow police tape and my aunt being questioned about a murder."

"So you weren't there?"

"No. And, as I learned, neither was my aunt. Royal had told her to go visit a friend for the weekend too. She was so under his thumb that she agreed. He'd told her this would be the last time he'd need to use her place. That, when she came back, all would be free and clear." She snorted angrily, "free and clear my ass. Royal kills that DA, blames it on some yokel, and...and Royal's still NOT GONE. Sure, he went away for a week, but he came back two nights ago." She shook her head, annoyed at the fact that she could feel tears in her eyes. She was not going to cry, damn it.

"Miss Wells...."

"Just call me Casey, okay?"

"Okay, Casey. Guess that makes me Buck."

She smiled, "That your real name?"

"'S'far as anyone knows it is," he smiled back. Then he pursed his lips, and leaned forward again, "Miss Wells, I need to know something. Has your aunt...do you know if she has anything to do with drugs?"

Casey's face went from shocked to angry to apoplectic in less than five seconds, but before she could say anything, Buck held his hand up to forestall her.

"That's okay, your expression answered my question already. Moving on, do you know what Royal has over your aunt?"

This time Casey just shook her head. Buck sighed.

"Well, okay, last question. You say you know that Royal killed Travis. Do you have any proof?"

Casey sighed, "No. Well, not exactly."

Buck frowned, "not exactly?"

"That's why I am here," she said, sitting up a little straighter. "My aunt's bartender is missing. Her name is Inez, and she's been with my aunt for almost a year. She was to run the bar while we were out of town. When we came back, she was gone. I...I'm afraid she's dead too."

Buck was frowning deeply now, and he scrambled around until he found a stack of post it notes in his desk. Pulling them out he wrote down the name "Inez."

"Inez what?" he asked.

"Roscillos. Inez Roscillos. That's why Yates is always hanging around out there. He had a thing for her. I think...I think he may have her somewhere. And I think she may have witnessed what really happened."

+ + + + + + +

Chris chose to stand as Ezra and Nathan sat down in the glass conservatory at the back of the house, facing a tiny garden with a high wooden fence almost one and a half stories high. He stared out at the small expanse of green with a strangely wistful expression, his eyes cataloguing the handful of children's toys scattered across it, including several tonka trucks and what looked like a handful of little army men laying siege to them. He turned around as more people entered.

Mary Travis walked before her father-in-law, her arms drawn tight across her chest, and sat down in one of the empty chairs. She no more looked at Chris than she would a fencepost. Light blond hair was gathered tightly back into a twist behind her head, and pale green eyes blinked inside lined skin that probably hadn't been lined a week before. Every muscle on her face looked stretched out, as if she'd spent the whole day tensing her jaw. And, of course, she was dressed head to toe in black.

"Mrs. Travis," Ezra licked his lips and sat forward, "My name is...."

"I know what your name is. You're here to find out who killed Stephen, correct?" Her stare would have bored a hole in a normal man, but Ezra had switched into his lawyer mode. Very little could touch him there – if he'd been a gambler, no one would have been able to touch him at poker with that face.

"In a manner of speaking," he replied calmly. "In actuality, I and my partner Josiah Sanchez are representing Vin Tanner. He is the...."

"Please, Mr. Standish, do you think I'm an idiot? He is the man accused of killing Stephen. Believe me, I am well aware of that poor man's name. I am also perfectly certain that no slapdash bounty hunter was behind my husband's murder, not unless he was paid an enormous amount of money." She looked at them, and, seeing their expressions, knew that Vin had not been paid to commit the murder. Nodding, she sighed and dropped her hands to her lap.

"The police came by asking me questions about Mr. Tanner, about Stephen's latest dealings, about any relationship they might have had. It's ridiculous, really. They've made their minds up that your client did this, and seem disinclined to look any further into the matter. Meanwhile, whoever really did this gets away scot free." She looked up, as if seeing them for the first time, "But then, that's why your here."

"Yes ma'am," Ezra agreed.

"So, are you looking for reasonable doubt, or are you going to find Stephen's killer?"

Ezra frowned slightly at the remark. Of course he was looking for both, but, in his heart, he knew that reasonable doubt was what he needed most. Finding Travis's real killer would simply be a bonus.

A bonus that, if the phone call he'd gotten this morning meant anything, could destroy him.

Shaking off the thought, he met Mary Travis's eyes and said, with total conviction, "My loyalty is to my client."

She frowned, then sighed sharply. "Well, I suppose I can't expect any more than that." Looking up, she glanced at Nathan, then at Chris. She frowned again at seeing the older dtective, her eyes sparking for a moment as if in recognition. He simply met the gaze. After a moment, she looked over at her father-in-law, who was standing off to one side.

"Orrin? Do you think you could show them to Stephen's study? I'm afraid I still have some work to do if I'm going to get that book off to the presses tonight."

The former judge nodded, and they all watched as she stood, straightened her dress, and glided back out of the room.

"She's working?" Chris asked, looking across at Travis. The older man nodded.

"Hasn't stopped. She runs her press from the second floor of this house. It's not large – she maybe puts out ten books a year – but it is her passion. That is the only thing keeping her going at the moment. I would like her to stop, if only for a little while, but...well, you know how it is."

Chris, tensing his jaw slightly, nodded. Yes, he did know how that was. He knew exactly how that was.

Moving towards the door, the former judge indicated for the men to follow him. As they filed out after him, Ezra glanced around at the various papers he noticed scattered along the tables in the conservatory. One was a copy of the statement he'd filed at court this morning about becoming Tanner's lawyer. Old judge Travis works fast, he thought to himself. Probably been keeping up to date on the case from the beginning, he realized.

Bet he knew how much Tanner's bail was set for.

Smiling now, as if he'd just guessed a fun secret, Ezra caught up with the others as they entered one of the side rooms on this first floor. It was piled high with papers and folders and boxes, and the judge settled himself against what might be a desk in the middle of it.

"I've been sorting through this for three days," he said sadly, "but it's such a jumble. I imagine it will take several more before you boys find anything useful. Still, three sets of young eyes have to be better than my old pair. Good luck." And he wandered out. They stared after him for a moment, before Ezra went out after him.

"Judge Travis," the lawyer called, turning the other around before he made it back to the conservatory. Travis raised his eyebrows.

"Um," trying to ignore the same nagging nervousness that had hit him outside, Ezra plunged on, "We may need to ask you and Mrs. Travis some questions later. Will you be around?"

The judge rolled his eyes, "Of course, boy, where else would we be."

"Ah, okay," Ezra paused, during which time the judge turned away again. Ezra coughed, "Oh, but, just one more question. About Mr. Tanner's bail, did you pay...?"

"Of course I did, Standish. Unfortunately, your partner found Tanner before I was able to secure the boy a decent law firm to defend him. I suppose now I'll just have to put up with you. Do not disappoint me, young man, I'm warning you." With a shake of his head, Travis turned away for the final time and disappeared back into the conservatory. Ezra, still standing in the hallway, watched him leave with a strange expression on his face.

"A decent law firm, eh, Judge?" he whispered to himself, his tone touching on angry. "Well, Tanner did better than decent. He found the best." Pivoting around on one foot, Ezra ducked back into the office to find Chris and Nathan already cutting up the papers into two piles.

"Only two piles?" he asked curiously. Chris looked up, and a dark smile crossed his face.

"Of course, one for you, and one for Nathan. You've got the legal pile, and he has the rest."

Ezra frowned, and not just because the legal pile was already looking heftier than the non-legal pile. "And where will you be, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris's smile deepened, "I'm going to go talk to the lady of the house." Walking around the lawyer, he disappeared down the hall and headed towards the stairs.

Ezra looked at Nathan, his index finger upraised as if he were about to point something out. Nathan stopped him.

"Yes, we all know that, technically, you are in charge, Ez. But we also all know, when it comes to the actual detecting, Chris is the leader."

The lawyer frowned, and Nathan grinned happily at the expression. Gathering up a pile of papers, he shoved them into Ezra's hands to start sorting. After a moment, Ezra started doing just that.

Didn't mean he was happy about it.

Nathan decided this was a good day.

Part Ten: Mary

Chris walked slowly up the stairs as he took in the photographs on the wall. Mostly they were of Mary and a young boy that Chris surmised to be Billy Travis, her son. There were only a couple of pictures with Stephen Travis in them, probably because the DA had been the one to take most of the pictures in the family. Some of them, Chris noticed, were smudged with fingerprints, as if someone touched Stephen's face every time they walked up the stairs.

Looking up towards the landing, the detective saw the shadow of someone waiting for him at the top of the stairs. Considering that he hadn't attempted to hide his movement up the creaky wooden steps, he wasn't surprised. Putting on a wry smile, he quickened his step and reached the top to find Mary waiting for him, her arms crossed angrily across her chest.

"Are you lost detective?"

Chris's smile grew at the words while he looked around this second floor. The narrow landing led to an equally narrower hallway littered with boxes. At the end, he could see the sunlight streaming into what had to be a large front room, probably where she kept the bulk of her work. The smell of ink and paper was strong up here.

"Where is your son staying?" he asked still looking around curiously. She frowned.

"At his grandmother's. Listen detective, I'll be more than happy to answer any questions you may have at a later time, but right now I'm very busy. So please, return to the others." She glanced pointedly back at the stairs he had come up. Chris ignored her.

"Word on the street is that there was a witness to your husband's murder. A woman."

Mary's jaw tensed and her brow creased slightly in surprise. "Really," she stated after a moment.

Chris nodded even though she had not meant it as a question. "I thought maybe you might have an idea who she might be."

She flexed an eyebrow, as if debating whether to tell him to leave again or not. Finally, she lowered her pale green eyes to the carpeted floor, silently admitting that she was too intrigued by the tidbit of information to let it go.

"A woman," she repeated carefully, fetching a loose curl of blond hair that had fallen forward with her hand and wrapping it behind her ear. "There...were several women involved in the case Stephen was building against Royal."

Chris smiled again, hearing the caution in her voice. "I assume you have informed the police of all of their names?"

In response, she nodded slowly. Then, looking back up at him, she met his eyes and sighed.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Stephen had a handful of informers, one of whom was Nettie Wells, the owner of the Black Rose. Unfortunately, Nettie could not get in touch very often because Royal kept very close tabs on her. Plus, Nettie's niece sometimes made things difficult. As I understand it, Royal often made veiled threats about Casey's vulnerability, often resulting in Nettie not getting in touch for weeks. Then, last year, Nettie found someone else to help her."

"Someone else?"

"She hired a young Mexican woman to be her bartender, a very clever woman named Inez Roscillos. Inez essentially took over Nettie's role and even added to Ms. Wells knowledge of Royal's organization."

Chris's eyes were narrowed, "I assume she is the name you have kept from the police?"

Mary sighed, nodding. "Yes. Inez...is illegal."

"Ah."

"Mr. Larabee, I admit I did not know that much about what Stephen was up to. He tried to keep me out of it because he considered it too dangerous for me. However, I learned of Inez and, through her, Ms. Wells, because I accidentally caught him having dinner with Inez in an east village restaurant one night. He had phoned me to say he was working late, so I went with a friend to a show out that way." She blushed, betraying what she had initially thought the meeting to be. "Inez is...very pretty, detective. When I jumped to the wrong conclusion, Stephen was forced to tell me the truth about her involvement in his case against Royal." She shrugged.

"When was the last time he saw her, do you know? Or the last time you heard from her?"

She breathed deeply, "Um...maybe a week before he...uh," she swallowed thickly and met his eyes again. "I haven't heard from her since."

Chris was pursing his lips, trying to recall the faces behind the bar at the Black Rose. He was certain there had not been a women there. Mary watched him a moment as he thought, then tilted her head.

"I seem to remember you from somewhere, detective, but I can't recall where."

The statement returned Chris's thoughts back to the present. "I doubt it, Mrs. Travis. I do not travel in the same circles as you and your husband. So, is there anything else you would like to tell me that wasn't in your report to the police?"

She watched him a moment longer then shook her head. "No, and I doubt your friends will find much in those files of Stephen's either. The reason they are in such disarray is because they were the first things the police went through when they came. They took them all with them, returning them only a couple of days ago, informing my father-in-law that there was nothing they could find that was pertinent. Of course he didn't believe them and planned to go through them himself. That is, until you showed up."

Chris pursed his lips, "And he had no other files anywhere that you know of?"

"Well, there were the files at his office as well, but those have mostly been sealed. The rest were brought here and are with the others. But...well, I doubt Stephen would have kept his file on Royal at the office. He didn't trust the security there."

"But if his file on Royal isn't at his office, or here, then where...?"

She shrugged. "As far as I know, Stephen didn't have a safe deposit box or anything of that nature. But then...there are a number of things I didn't know about Stephen's life. It was not until the night he was killed that I even knew that he was in Queens and not in Baltimore, where he told me he would be." Her voice shook a little and she turned her head away.

"Baltimore?"

"He said there was a conference there. Left a couple days before his murder. And, before you ask, no, I have no idea where he was staying in reality. But, like I told the police, I suppose he might have had another place where he stayed here in the city, and maybe that is where he kept his important documents." She leaned against the wall, looking suddenly very tired. "Is there anything else, Mr. Larabee?"

Chris tried smiling softly, then gave up. "No Mrs. Travis, thank you. I do have some friends on the force, so I assume that, had they found this other place of your husband's, they would have told me."

She nodded slowly, then sighed. "They don't seem to be looking that hard."

"The police are very busy, Mrs. Travis. I'm sure that, had they thought it was vital, they'd be scouring the city for it. I'm guessing they have some junior people looking, because finding your husband's file on Royal is something they want, but most of the force are probably already focused on the next case."

"Junior people."

"Good people, Mrs. Travis."

"Yes." She looked at him again and pushed herself off the wall. "Are we finished, detective?"

Chris smiled, "For the time being, yes. Do you mind if I look around some more?"

"Go ahead. Just don't damage anything. Unlike the police, Mr. Larabee, I can sue you."

Chris shook his head as she walked away down the hall to the end room, then turned to look in the first side room he found off the hallway.

Part Eleven: Papers and Polaroids

Chris came back down stairs to find Ezra and Nathan still pouring over documents, neither of whom seemed to have made much progress. Ezra had slowly been sorting his documents into smaller piles while Nathan was simply reading and tossing. The older detective cleared his throat to get their attention, something to which Nathan responded immediately.

"You find anything out?" Nathan asked.

"Yep. Seems we may have a woman to track down."

"The witness?"

"Maybe. How're you doing?" Chris leaned forward to peer at the document in Nathan's hands. Nathan grimaced.

"Oh, well, about as expected. I mean, there are receipts and records and all that kind of stuff here, but nothing has jumped out at me yet."

"Well," Chris said, "here's something to look for. Looks like Travis may have rented another place out here in Manhattan, or maybe had a storage place somewhere not related to work. See if you can find it. I'm guessing the police already looked through for the obvious, so...."

"Look for the unobvious. Gotcha."

Ezra perked up at that, looking across at the detective in training, "'Unobvious,' Mr. Jackson? Is that a word?"

"It is one now," the man replied, smiling broadly. Ezra did his best not to sniff derisively.

"What about you, Standish," Chris said, leaning back against the door frame, "You find anything?"

"Um," the lawyer shuffled around a bit, then picked up a handful of papers, "I don't know. I need to ask Judge Travis a question about his son's past time. It may be nothing."

"Past time?"

"Well, I have a handful of legal briefs and memos here that don't seem to correspond with anything that Stephen Travis would do as a DA."

"Like what?"

"Well, there are housing court filings, some probate filings and even an environmental justice memo. It's probably just some sort of Pro Bono work he did on the side, but I thought I'd check."

Nathan snorted, "Anything that seems Pro Bono is suspicious to you, huh Ezra. After all, the concept of doing legal work for someone for free who needs it is such a foreign concept to your money minded brain."

Ezra flexed an eyebrow, "How droll, Mr. Jackson. I'll have to repeat that comment to Mr. Tanner when he gives me my next fat paycheck."

"Oh come one, admit it. If it weren't for Josiah, you'd never even looked have at Tanner twice."

"Excuse me, Mr. Jackson, but am I to understand it that we have acquired your services on this matter out of the goodness of your heart?"

"That's different. I need the money."

Ezra sighed, "Of course, and I don't."

"Boys," Chris's voice was stern and a little tired, "Mind of we table this until you are alone?" This was obviously not a new argument. Both men on the floor looked up, glares fading as they watched Chris run his nose between thumb and forefinger. Ezra shrugged and looked back down at his papers, while Nathan sighed and leaned back against the desk.

"This is going to take us a while, Chris. We could use more help."

"I'll go ask the Judge if we can take this with us," Chris nodded. "I'm sure the boys back at the 4C are more than ready for some extra work."

"Ask him about these too, will you?" Ezra said, pointing to the papers he'd set aside. Chris smiled.

"You want to ask him yourself? You could come with me."

Ezra opened his mouth, then shut it. "Well, if you're already going, I don't see the need to...."

Chris laughed, "You really are a chicken-shit, you know that Standish?"

Ezra smiled crookedly, "I prefer to think of myself as prudently avoiding an unnecessary ordeal, Mr. Larabee. The less I see of Judge Travis, the better off we'll all be."

"Chicken shit," Nathan agreed with Chris, causing them both to laugh as a scowling Ezra went back to his papers.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah hung up the phone angrily, the prattling of Travis's former secretary still buzzing in his ears. Most of the time he found secretaries to be clever people, oftentimes cleverer than their bosses, and, more often than not, he found them to be nice. Patsy Reingold was not one of those people.

She had begun by telling him that he was not allowed access to any of Stephen Travis's documents, and then refused to answer any questions about what she knew about his dealings. The fact that Josiah was the lawyer to the defendant in Travis's murder and thus had the right of access to those documents and to ask her questions meant nothing to the woman. In an hour of arguing, he only succeeded in making himself so angry he wanted to punch something.

Though he hated to admit it, Josiah's greatest failing was that he had a violent temper, something he had spent much of his youth trying to repress. As a teenager, that temper had landed him in jail several times, and he'd been trying to curb it ever since. He'd tried everything, including attending a seminary for a while between college and law school, thinking that he could find peace in the church, but it was never his calling. In the end, it was age that finally mellowed him to the point where it now took a lot to get him angry, but when he was, he still had a tendency towards taking out that anger with his fists. Today, his anger had been building slowly since Ezra had told him about the threat he'd gotten that morning, and hours on the phone to petty bureaucrats like Travis's secretary to gather information this afternoon had him close to the breaking point. Patsy Reingold was lucky that she was on the other side of the phone.

But not so lucky for the person who just knocked on the door.

"WHAT!" Josiah shouted, spinning around to find himself faced with a pimply faced courier, the kid's bicycle helmet still strapped on his head. The courier jumped back a few feet and nearly dropped the envelope he was carrying. Quickly, Josiah tried to calm himself down and ended up sitting down heavily in his chair.

"Sorry, kid, sorry. Just a little annoyed." He looked up to see that the kid was now standing half in and half out of the room, cowering slightly. Josiah tried smiling. It didn't work. "Can I help you?"

"Um, I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Sanchez, but, um, your secretary seems to be out and...."

"JD's gone? That's odd." The lawyer rubbed at his temples, "So what have you got?"

"Same day delivery from Chase Manhattan Bank." The courier held out a manila envelope with Sanchez & Standish handwritten on the front. Josiah took it slowly.

"Need me to sign for it?"

"Nope."

"Well okay then. Thanks."

"No prob. Nice building you got here, by the way. A real maze. Person could get lost for hours in here."

Josiah smiled thinly and nodded to the boy, signaling goodbye. Moments later he was opening the envelope, curious as to the contents. Chase was not their bank - they used Citibank - and as far as he knew, none of their clients or adversaries used it either.

Inside was a letter and a Polaroid snapshot:

Sirs,

The messenger lied to you, this is not from the bank. We know that you have not heeded our warning regarding the Travis case. Reconsider. This is your last warning.

The picture showed JD and Vin getting lunch from the deli across the street.

Dropping it to the ground, Josiah burst out of the office and stared around at the empty hallway. The light "ping" from the elevator in the distance started him running to reach it in time. Buck looked up as the large man lumbered loudly past the detective's office door and Casey, still sitting in her seat, twisted around.

The lawyer careened around the corner and down the two steps to the elevator bank, just in time to see the doors shut on the messenger's smiling face. Grimacing, Josiah ran to the stairs and bounded down, taking them two at a time. In moments he was at the bottom and into the lobby, waiting for the elevator to reach the bottom.

The elevator carrying the courier pinged, the doors opened slowly.

There was no one there.

"Josiah?"

Turning around, Josiah found JD and Vin watching him curiously from inside the front door to the building. They were both carrying deli bags.

"What's going on?" Vin asked, seeing the redness in the older man's face.

"You went to get lunch," Josiah replied, matter-of-factly.

"Yeah," JD was frowning now, "we just went to the deli across the street. Hell of a long line, but...."

"You don't leave here again without telling me or Buck, understand? I want Buck, Chris, me or Ezra with the two of you at all times from now on."

"We just went...."

"Don't argue, JD." Reaching into his pocket, Josiah pulled out his cell phone while Vin and JD looked on, puzzled. Behind them, the elevators pinged again to reveal Buck and Casey, the girl hiding slightly behind the older man. Buck had his gun in hand and a scowl on his face.

"What's going on?" the detective demanded, watching Josiah dial. The lawyer looked up, his dark blue eyes shadowed beneath his creased brow and shook his head.

"They're trying to scare us," he said quietly, "and it's working."

On the other end of the line, Chris picked up his phone and listened as Josiah hastily explained what had just happened. Ezra frowned as he saw the expression darken on the detective's face, and started gathering the papers together to be taken with them.

Part Twelve: Hiding Casey

"Oh God, oh God," Casey was pacing the office floor when Chris and the others returned, each carrying a couple of heavy boxes of files. Josiah was sitting on the edge of JD's desk while Buck, JD and Vin hung out together near the coffee maker. The envelope with the latest threat was sitting on JD's desk.

"Ms. Wells, nice to see you again," Chris greeted softly as he put his boxes down. She stopped pacing and watched him carefully, her eyes widening slightly as if she hoped he seemed more than he was. Perhaps something about his demeanor did calm her because her shoulders relaxed slightly and she managed to nod back.

"Mr. Larabee. I came because...."

Chris held up his hand, "I know. Buck told me on the phone already."

"Well then you'll also know that Mr. Royal and his men will probably know I came here by now."

Chris nodded and shrugged. "Yes. I'm sorry Ms. Wells."

"I knew I shouldn't have come. I can't go back now, and my aunt, she's going to kill me! What am I going to do?"

Chris pursed his lips and looked over at Buck. "I think you need to go stay with some friends or relatives for a while Ms. Wells. Is there anyone...?"

"What, just call up someone from school and ask if I can spend the summer with them out of the blue? I bet there parents would love that!"

"You have a better idea?"

"I..." she frowned, huffed, and leaned against the desk, "but what if they find me? I'd be putting someone else in danger." She brought her hands up to her face. "And my aunt. What will she do without me? What if they threaten her because of me?" Her eyes started to burn behind her hands and she had to bit down on her lip to stop herself from crying. Buck wandered over and leaned on the desk next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. Over by the coffeemaker JD poorly repressed a pang of jealousy.

"Casey, darling, it'll be all right. There may be another option. We know some good people that you can stay with. For example, I know some folks in Boston who could set you up very well and keep you safe." Buck gave her a tight squeeze.

She sniffed and looked up at him, "Boston? I...I could...I like Boston."

"I know some folks there too," JD said quickly, earning him an odd look from the others. He hunkered down again and hid slightly behind the taller Vin. Casey glanced at him and smiled briefly, then looked back at Buck.

"What about my aunt?"

"We'll make sure she's taken care of too, don't worry."

Casey nodded, seeing the confidence in his eyes. Gathering herself together somewhat she shook herself slightly and looked around at the others.

"How long?" she asked.

"As fast as we can, Ms Wells," Chris answered. "We have some solid leads now. It won't be long, I promise. With any luck, by the time you head back to start school again."

She smiled up at him.

"Let's call your aunt," Buck said. "I don't think you should head back there at all, even to get your things. Chris and I will go over later and pick up anything you may need for the summer."

Casey paled slightly, but nodded and somehow managed to hold onto the smile.

JD decided he was most definitely in love.

+ + + + + + +

It was dark by the time Chris and Buck got to the Black Rose, wherein they headed straight into the office to speak with its owner.

Nettie Wells surprised them by not yelling and merely listened as they explained what had happened with Casey, her sharp blue eyes darting between them without blinking. She was older than they had expected, in part because Nettie was not Casey's aunt but her great aunt, the youngest sister of Casey's grandmother. Her face was stern in appearance, strong and intense, and had an intelligence born of experience backing up her attitude. Still, despite these outward signs, there was a tremor of fear that clearly underlined her every movement, every word.

"So you won't tell me where you're taking her?" she asked calmly, tucking a loose strand of white hair behind her ear.

"It's better for her, Ms. Wells."

"Nettie. My name's Nettie, detective."

"Nettie," Buck smiled, but, unlike his usual reaction, there was merely a slight sniff of disdain from the woman.

"I suppose I don't have much choice in the matter," she said, turning to look at Chris. He didn't answer, simply stared at her coldly. There was blame in that gaze, and, after a moment, she had to drop her gaze, outmatched. "I see," she whispered.

"She'll be safe as houses, Nettie," Buck assured her.

She nodded and looked back down again at the note Casey had written to her, explaining what had happened. Casey trusts these men, she told herself, so you will have to too. Looking at them again she thought she could see something of what Casey must have seen the night Chris wandered into her room. She could see their honesty.

"You will take excellent care of her, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll have to take your word on that. Her room is second on the right at the top of the stairs. If you come with me we can pack her things." Standing, she led the way out of her little office downstairs to the stairs. She was a small woman, perhaps no more that five foot two in height, much like her grand niece, but she had a definite presence.

On the way up the stairs, a man came down, stopping on the third step when he saw Chris and Buck. He was tall with a nondescript face and a rather stocky build.

"Nettie?" he asked. "Are you hiring detectives now? The Larabee agency seems to be everywhere these days." The knowing look he gave them got lost in the glares they sent at him.

The woman frowned, "These men have come for Casey's things, Mr. Smith. She's going away from here until the end of the summer."

"Really, where?"

"I don't know. They won't tell me."

The man's eyes narrowed, "You don't know? Isn't that a little strange?"

Nettie sighed, "Casey is 20 years old, Mr. Smith, and capable of making her own decisions. I had little control over her as a girl after her parents died and I have even less now. If you wish, you can ask these gentlemen yourself where Casey is going but I doubt they'd tell you anything. Isn't that right Mr. Larabee?" She looked at Chris.

"Mr. Yates here, or should I say Smith, would most definitely be hard pressed to learn anything from us, Nettie," Buck answered for his friend. Chris just raised his eyebrows slightly in agreement. "Now if you'll excuse us, the smell on the stairs here is getting a bit thick."

Pushing past Yates, the three continued to the top of the stairs to Casey's room. The former marshal watched them go with a dark expression, his false smile fading. As soon as they were around the corner he took out his cell phone to call the mole he had stationed watching the 4C building. The boy on the other side of the line told him that the girl had not left yet.

In Casey's room, Chris passed Nettie another note as she bustled around getting things together. She read it quickly, then looked up, all pretense of pride gone. Grabbing a pen off of Casey's small writing table, she wrote a quick answer and passed it back.

To the question of "Where is Inez Roscillos?" Nettie had written, "She's been missing since that night. I'm terrified that they've done something to her. Please find her if you can." At the bottom, she scribbled an address.

+ + + + + + +

"Where are we now?" Casey asked, holding tightly on to the back of JD's shirt. They were somewhere under the city, walking carefully through what looked like dirty unused basements and storage spaces.

"Oh, let's see," JD looked around for some distinguishing mark. The walls vibrated suddenly and a loud screech of a train came from somewhere below and behind them. Casey gripped his shirt even more tightly and JD smiled. "Probably just past the 4,5,6 subway line," he told her.

"Are you sure? Maybe that was a train going into Grand Central." So far every room they'd come through looked the same – the same damp, cement walls, ugly thick pipes and boilers, disused trash and naked bulbs hanging everywhere. It was like a forgotten world down here. She couldn't tell if they'd gone north, south or straight west since descending into the rooms below the 4C building.

"Josiah and I know where we're going," the kid assured her, nodding to Josiah walking steadily before them. Casey looked ahead at their tall leader, then back at the equally tall Nathan bringing up the rear. She felt very small.

"I just don't understand where we are," she muttered softly, failing to hide her nervousness.

"The buildings aren't merely a maze above, Casey, they're a mess below as well. This was the only we could get you out with no one seeing. I doubt they could find us right now if they had a bloodhound. There's so much filth down here it'd mask any scent."

The girl grimaced, "that makes me feel so much better," she hissed, stepping over something she hoped wasn't a dead rat.

"We'll be up and out of here soon, I swear," the kid told her. "And when we do, you'll see we're only a few blocks from the bus station."

"Remind me, why am I taking the bus instead of the train?"

JD smiled, "Because we're paying for the ride, why else."

She sniffed, not appreciating the joke, "I can't believe this is happening."

JD's smile faded and he glanced back at her, "It'll be all right, Case, I promise," he whispered.

Part Thirteen: Finding What's Hidden

Vin sat in Ezra's office watching the young lawyer reading through a sheaf of papers he'd brought back from the Travis's, his fingers tapping restlessly on his knee. Next to him was a box of papers Nathan had handed to him to look through, to see if they could find some indication of where Travis might have been staying the week he died. Vin had glanced at a few pages them stopped. He was not made for document reading.

Ezra shut his eyes, more than aware that Vin was staring at him.

"Mr. Tanner, I would appreciate it if you did not do that."

"Do what?"

Ezra opened emerald eyes to stare intently at the man across from him. "Stare at me."

"Was I staring?"

"Yes."

"Sorry." The ex-bounty hunter looked down at his knees and started flexing his fingers. His knuckles cracked occasionally. Ezra tried to get back to his reading...and failed.

"Mr. Tanner."

"I wasn't staring."

Ezra shook his head, "You told Mr. Jackson that you would be willing to help with the documents."

"I know....I know, I just...I can't keep sitting still like this, Ez. It's too quiet. Nathan's gone with Josiah and JD to take Casey to the train station, Buck and Chris went to the Black Rose to get her things to send to her, and we're stuck here reading papers."

Ezra sighed, putting down the file he'd been looking through, "That's what lawyers do, Mr. Tanner. We read. That's how we find out things."

"Seems useless to me."

"Oh? And what would you be doing instead?"

"I'd be out looking for that barmaid! Inez what's-her-name! Or trying to find out where Travis was staying by checking out the hotels and things. It's useless just sitting here! Christ, we found out more this morning in a couple hours of legwork than you've done in a whole day of reading papers."

"Perhaps the fact that you only did legwork, as you put it, tracking Eli Joe is part of the reason you are in your current predicament, Mr. Tanner."

Vin frowned, "That was low."

"But was it incorrect?"

The Texan continued to frown, but he didn't disagree. He probably should have done more research, but he was tired when he got to New York and daunted by its size. Besides, paper trails were never his forte.

"Also, and this may be somewhat obvious, Mr. Tanner, New York is enormous. Nine million people live here spread across five boroughs, and millions more arrive to work and visit here every day. You want to find where Travis was staying, simply polling every hotel or short term lease by legwork would take you more years than you have left."

Vin frowned more deeply, trying to remember why he thought he had come to like the man sitting across from him. The didactic tone was getting wearing.

"Besides..." Ezra looked down at the file he was working on and a small smile spread across his face, "I wouldn't have said that I haven't found anything in these papers. In fact," he looked up, "I think I've found exactly what we're looking for."

Vin straightened in his chair, his frown forgotten.

+ + + + + + +

"How long do you think we have to wait?" Buck asked into the small walkie talkie he had in his hand. On the other side, Chris replied with static and a grunt. Buck smiled. His partner never did have much patience for asinine questions. He remembered Chris's expression once when they'd been on vacation with Sarah and Adam, and Chris's son asked for the third time in fifteen minutes how much longer it would be. Chris's knuckles had been white as he gripped the stick-shift, replying to Adam's question with a steel gaze. The five year old boy hadn't been daunted, simply grinning his gap toothed smile and asking again. The kid had been the only person, other than Chris's wife Sarah, who had never reacted to the infamous Larabee glare. Chris could only answer the question and pray that the boy wouldn't ask again. Never worked.

Buck's smile fell slightly as he thought of the beautiful woman and her son, thinking it had been far too long since Chris had mentioned them last. They'd been dead now fro almost five years, killed in an apartment fire in Jersey City where Chris used to live. Chris never talked about them anymore. But the man still wore black. Mourning black. Buck considered trying to bring them up in conversation soon, to try and relieve some of the depression he knew his friend still harbored.

"Buck, head's up. Yates is leaving by the back."

The tall cowboy said a quick ten-four into the walkie talkie and moved stealthily down the alley to get their jeep. After Nettie had given them Casey's things, Buck had left in a cab to take the suitcases back to Brooklyn while Chris watched for Yates. When the cowboy had returned, he'd brought the jeep back with him and proceeded to watch the front while Chris watched the back. It was Chris's idea to watch for Yates, since Casey had told them the former marshal had a thing for Inez. Plus, it was always a good thing to know where the rats were hiding these days, to make it easier to exterminate them when the time came.

Yates sidled out of the bar and down the alley, walking right past Chris's position without seeing him. The detective had hidden himself up on a fire escape, using the age old truth that no one ever looks up.

After a few minutes, the detective judged it safe to drop down, and he quietly started to follow Yates. Looking around, he couldn't see Buck in the jeep but knew the man wasn't far.

When Yates reached his car, Chris hailed a cab to follow him. He kept up a constant rapport with Buck in the jeep, who remained out of sight. After about ten blocks, Chris had the cab turn off so Yates wouldn't get suspicious, and Buck came out of a side street to take over the chase. The cabbie occasionally looked back at his oddly acting passenger, who was now giving him directions on a street by street basis as they essentially paralleled Yates's movements, but chalked it up to this being New York.

Trading off, Chris and Buck continued to follow Yates towards the edge of Queens, until he pulled onto the Douglaston parkway and headed for the water. A more affluent neighborhood than its neighbors, Douglaston had plenty of large houses and secured communities, and it looked like Yates had joined their ranks.

Fewer cars on the roads and very few cabs made it difficult to follow Yates closely. They almost lost him a few times. Finally, Chris had the cab drop him off and Buck pick him up. By pure chance, they managed to spot Yates' car before he disappeared down a dead end street. Pulling over to park, the two detectives followed the rest of the way on foot.

Yates locked his car and walked up into a large old Victorian on one side of the street, the house hidden inside several large oaks and a handful of maples. Treading carefully, the two detectives searched for an alternative entrance.

Bypassing several trip wires and other silent alarms, they found a way into the house via a balcony in the back. The room beyond it looked dark, but the glass doors leading to it also seemed to be slightly ajar, probably to let air in on the hot summer night. Smiling, they boosted each other up and, with the artistry of professional thieves, broke into the house.

It was a bedroom.

And someone was sleeping in the bed.

Someone they'd just woken up.

Chris nearly swore out loud. Twice in two nights he'd done this. Fuck.

Buck leaped onto the bed to hold the person down as she started to scream, holding a hand roughly over her mouth before she could. She fought like a cat under him, trying to shove him off, but he was just too big. She did, however, manage to free her face.

"You bastard Yates! Leave me alone!" she hissed, pressing a hand into Buck's face to try to push it away. She stopped fighting immediately when she felt his moustache. "Madre de Dios," she said, "Burglars!" and heaved in a huge breath in order to scream.

Part Fourteen: Breaking In

Buck clamped his hand down hard again over her mouth, stifling the woman. She fought under his hold, but he only positioned himself better to keep her still.

Chris had gone to stand by the closed door to the room, his gun in hand as he listened for anyone whom might have heard the scuffle.

"We’re not burglars," Buck hissed in the woman’s ear. "We’re detectives. We’re following Yates, and we used your open balcony door as way in. We’re not going to hurt you."

The woman squirmed a little less, her eyes trying hard to make out the man’s features as he sat on top of her.

Buck tried to hide a small smile, his seven second mind thinking that, had the situation been a bit different, this would have been fun.

"Listen, unless you promise you won’t scream, I’m going to have to knock you out, and I don’t want to do that." Buck loosened his hold slightly to show her he meant to let her go, she squirmed a little less. "You promise not to scream?" he asked.

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears in the pale moonlight, but she eventually nodded. Buck offered her a small smile and gently lifted his hand away.

"What do you want?" she whispered, staring up at him, her Mexican accent thick with nervousness. "You obviously know who’s house this is, but are you aware how dangerous he is? If Yates finds you here…."

"He won’t, not unless you give us away." Buck gently lifted himself up off of her so that he could sit on the side of the bed. She quickly sat up, drawing the bedclothes up in a protective fashion, and watched him with bright eyes.

"What do you want?" she repeated, still whispering.

"We’re looking for someone," Buck replied. "Her name is Inez."

The woman on the bed flinched slightly, her brow furrowing.

"Why?"

"Two reasons. One, we think she may be in trouble and we want to help her."

Buck spoke slowly, watching her reactions. She swallowed at his words, and the blankets were gripped a little less tightly around her midsection.

"And two," he continued, "we think she may have been a witness to a murder."

The blankets were instantly tightened again, and she brought her knees up to her chest under them.

"I don’t know who you are talking about," she said quickly. "There is no one with that name here."

Buck watched her large eyes switch rapidly back and forth between himself and Chris, and couldn't help a slightly crooked smile. Could they have been so lucky? She frowned at the expression, momentary annoyance glinting in her eyes despite her situation.

"Are you sure?" Buck asked.

"Absolutely, senor. Now, leave, before I change my mind about screaming." She shut her mouth tightly and tried to look stern. Buck shook his head, and decided to take a chance.

"Inez," he whispered, "please...we can help you."

Her jaw tensed and she shook her head. "You are wrong," she said.

"Inez," Buck tried again, but she just glared at him.

"I am not Inez," she hissed. "And even if I knew where she was, I know that you cannot help her. Yates will kill her if she even looks at him wrong, understand? He knows too many people, has too many friends. You couldn’t protect her. If she left this house, she would be dead within a day, and her friends would suffer because of it." Her voice was trembling as she watched him, her eyes locked on his.

"Yates is not the only one with friends, Inez. And he is not as powerful as you think he is. In his business, every man can become a weak link, and, right now, because of all that has happened, he knows he is not as strong as he would like. They’ll cut him off as soon as he becomes a liability, and you can make him a liability. Plus you can help yourself and another friend of mine in the process."

Her fingers gripped at the blankets, her eyes watching him with such intensity, it almost made him want to look away. Finally, she turned her own gaze downward.

"You need to leave," she said quietly. "I can not help you. I can not help your friend, or even my friends, and I most certainly cannot help myself."

"What do you mean, your friends?"

She shrugged.

"Casey Wells is already safe, Inez. And we can make sure Nettie is as well."

Inez turned back to him with wide eyes, "Casey is safe? But I thought I heard…."

"She is safe. And Nettie is very worried about you." He watched her carefully, seeing hope in her eyes for the first time. She opened her mouth to respond, when Chris suddenly pulled back the hammer on his gun. The noise seemed unnaturally loud in the still room.

"Buck," Chris indicated the door with his head. "I can hear movement."

Buck turned to look back at his partner, then returned to looking at Inez.

"Does he sleep here?"

She shook her head. "Not yet. I…I told him that my religion forbade it before marriage. For some reason, he is honoring that. For now." She looked down at her hand, raising it up for him to see. The diamond on her ring finger glinted dully in the pale light. Buck met her eyes, and she quickly looked away.

"You must leave. He’ll check on me before retiring. You must go now."

"Is there somewhere you can hide us?"

She looked surprised by the question and shook her head.

"No. Go. Please."

"How about the closet?" he said, ignoring her plea and looking over at the tall double doors where she must keep her clothes. She shook her head again.

"Buck!" Chris’s whisper was more urgent, and he backed away from the door, his gun gripped in both hands. Inez shivered and looked at Buck.

"Get under the bed. He doesn’t check there. Hurry!"

Buck grinned and instantly dropped to roll under the bed. Chris swooped down to get in under the other side. Above them, they could hear Inez hunker down to look as if she were asleep.

Footsteps rang down the corridor outside until they stopped in front of the door. Quietly, it opened, and two sets of feet walked in. One went to the bed and sat on the edge, while the other went straight to the closet to look inside. Chris, lying on his stomach, followed the moving feet with his gun.

"Inez," Yates’ voice said quietly from where he sat, "Are you awake, my beautiful one?"

Inez murmured something incomprehensible in response, and Yates chuckled. The other set of feet walked over to the balcony doors and shut them, the lock clicking closed. Yates sighed.

"Inez, you know you must keep those closed. I can’t fully set the alarm with them open."

"It is a warm night, senor," Inez replied. "And it gets stuffy in here. I am sorry. I meant to close them when I went to sleep, but I forgot."

"You know I only do it to protect you, love. There are those who would take any chance to kill you if they could. You are only safe so long as you’re with me, but I can not protect you unless you follow the rules."

"Yes, senor, I know." She sounded so meek, it made Buck want to take out his own gun and shoot Yates’s feet off. Chris, feeling the cowboy tense up next to him, pressed a foot against his leg in warning.

"Good." The bed creaked as Yates leaned over and, from the sounds of it, kissed Inez. Then he stood up and looked over at the other man.

"Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"All right. Go down and set the alarm. I’ll be in my office, waiting for word from the kid watching the 4C. Lights are still on, but they must be planning on moving her soon."

Buck watched as Yates’ feet turned to face in the direction of the bed one last time. The other man waited for him at the door.

"Goodnight, Inez," he said, his voice soft.

"Goodnight, senor," she replied coolly, the formalness in her tone not lost on Yates. He stood a moment longer watching her before finally turning and heading back to the door.

As soon as he shut it, Chris and Buck crawled out and Chris went back to stand guard at the door. Buck looked down at Inez, who was watching him with a steady expression.

"Come with us," he whispered urgently.

She didn’t answer.

Chris listened to the footsteps recede, then jogged to the balcony doors. They had to get out before the alarm was set on the lock. He looked back at Buck and held his breath as the cowboy held out his hand to Inez.

"Trust me," the detective whispered. "It’ll be all right."

Suddenly, Inez grinned. Still without answering, she jumped out of the bed, her nightgown almost slipping from her shoulder, and jogged barefooted over to the closet. Ripping it open, she pulled out a long black sweater with a tie at the waist and threw it on. Then she pulled on a pair of boots and grabbed a full carpet bag near the back of the closet.

Still grinning, she ran over to the balcony doors and opened them. Turning around, she looked back at Chris and Buck, who both looked dumbfounded.

"When I make a decision, I stick to it," she whispered hastily, looking at Buck. "For some reason, I do trust you senor, though I’m not sure why." She shoved the carpetbag into his hands, then climbed over the balcony’s banister. When they still hadn’t moved, she almost laughed. "Bailey is going to turn on the alarm to this door in about ten seconds. Don’t you think we should get the hell out of here? Now?"

Both detectives scrambled to follow. Just as they shut the door, a faint electronic beep sounded to indicate that the alarm had been turned on.

Moments later, they were at the jeep and speeding away down LIE, heading back into the heart of Queens.

Back at the house, the wind started to pick up again, blowing at the still unlocked but closed balcony doors.

Part Fifteen: Breaking Through

"You have a sneaky mind, Ezra," Vin said, the smile on his face growing as Ezra pointed out another piece of the puzzle in Travis's documents. "I'm not surprised the police didn't see this. Hell, I'm surprised you even saw it!"

"My mother taught me a thing or two about how to hide things," Ezra replied quizzically, also smiling.

The phone rang on the desk, and the lawyer grabbed it absently.

"Sanchez and Standish," he said, cradling the phone on his shoulder as he took back the papers he had given Vin and shoving them into a box. He nearly dropped the phone as he listened to Chris's hurried message, and his wide eyes caught Vin's.

"My God. Yes, of course. We'll be there when you arrive. Be careful." He hung up the phone and grinned stupidly at Vin. The bounty hunter opened his mouth the ask a question, but Ezra waved a finger and dialed another number. The ex bounty hunter tried not to frown in annoyance.

"Yes, this is Ezra Standish in 19A. Two gentlemen, Mr. Chris Larabee and Mr. Buck Wilmington, will be arriving there in the next half and hour accompanied by two women, one young, one older. Please send them up to my apartment, will you? Do you recall what those gentlemen looked like? Yes...exactly," he chuckled slightly, nodding and still smiling at Vin. "Wonderful. Thank you. Oh, and a Mr. Josiah Sanchez and Mr. JD Dunne should also be arriving soon. Do the same for them?...Yes. Thanks. I'll be home when I can."

Vin opened his mouth again, but Ezra shook his head and dialed another number.

"Josiah? It's me. They found her. Yes, I know...No, I have no idea how. But they're taking her to the Westmoreland. Did Casey get off okay? Good, okay....yes, we will. Bye."

When he hung up the phone, he just shook his head and laughed. "It's unbelievable," he said to Vin. "You must have an angel on your shoulder, Mr. Tanner."

Across from him, Vin was afraid to join in, afraid to assume what he hoped had happened. Finally, when Ezra started picking up papers again, the ex bounty hunter slammed his fist on the desk. Startled, Ezra caught his eyes.

The ex bounty hunter shook his head, "Wait, wait. Are you saying Chris and Buck found...?"

The lawyer shrugged, and arched an eyebrow. "What can I say? You hired the best, Tanner." He grinned from ear to ear and started pulling more papers together on the desk.

Vin's mouth fell open, and his heart started to catch in his throat. Ezra stopped smiling when he looked up again and saw the expression.

"What? What's wrong? This is the break we needed. She may be able to tell us what happened the night Travis was killed. She could exonerate you!"

"Yes," Vin nodded, "but she could also have seen nothing, or...." He swallowed harshly, unable to admit that she might instead corroborate the fact that he killed Travis. Ezra shook his head.

"We need the truth, Vin. If she knows it, for good or ill, we need to know it."

Vin shut his eyes, and nodded. Then another thought entered his mind. He looked up at Ezra.

"What happens when they find she's gone?" Vin asked quickly. The lawyer's face fell completely at the idea. His hands started gathering papers more quickly and stuffed them into the box on his desk. He pointed at one of the three boxes of Travis's papers.

"Grab that box," he ordered. "We've got to get out of here."

+ + + + + + +

Back at the house in Queens, the wind through a particularly hard gust at the house, and the balcony doors flew open. The alarm screamed through the house.

+ + + + + + +

Yates's man, the red-head "messenger," kept his binoculars trained on the seventh floor office, watching as Ezra Standish, who'd been sitting with his back to the window at his desk, started moving around very quickly.

"Something's happening," he smiled. "Finally!" He pulled out his phone to call Yates that they were on the move, and was surprised to have it ring in his hand.

"Danny here," he answered as he held it up to his ear. His eyes darted up to the office building window just in time to see the light go off. "Yes sir, Marshal Yates. Yes sir! Their light just went off. Yes sir, I'm on it!"

Running across 42nd street, barely missing being hit by a cross town bus, Danny ran up to the building's door and fumbled around to find his stolen key to get inside.

Part Sixteen: Breaking Down

Chris screeched to a halt outside the Black Rose, watching as Buck jumped out and ran into the building. It being almost four in the morning by this time, Nettie had closed the bar an hour before. They'd called the bar-owner right after calling Ezra, and she had agreed to meet them. The fact that she was not yet at the door was not the best sign.

"Where is she," Chris muttered, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. In the back, Inez kept her head down, while shivers ran down her spine.

+ + + + + + +

"Nettie!" Buck opened the office door to find the room empty and the lights off. Grimacing, he turned and started for the stairs.

He was halfway up when he smelled the smoke.

Turning the corner on the landing, he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of black smoke billowing out from under the two doors at the end, from the rooms that Guy Royal had used as his offices with Yates and Spikes. The two doors creaked and bent, the hot air from the fires inside trying to get out.

"Damn it!"

Buck started banging on the other doors, opening those that felt cool, hoping to find the older woman in one of the rooms. Last he reached the final two doors. Shaking now, he kicked in the first door and jumped back as the fire escaped in a flash. Shaking even more now, he ducked under the smoke and peered inside, looking for Nettie and calling her name. A quick glance showed she was not in there. Coughing now, he reached the second door and kicked it open.

Also empty.

Breathing a sigh of relief, and nearly choking, he ran down the stairs to the main part of the bar, looking around him.

There had to be something.

A faint banging sent him in the direction of the back room, but he had already checked it, hadn't he? He yelled Nettie's name again.

Smoke was billowing down the stairs now, and he could hear Chris honking madly from the car. The phone in his pocket was also ringing, and he knew it was Chris wanting to know what was going on. The fire was probably raging on the top floor now, and when it got to the basement, the alcohol would make the place a firebomb.

He turned in circles in the backroom, the sound of banging more evident. Was he going insane? There were no doors here!

He turned around again, and pulled the phone out of his pocket.

"Chris! I can't find her! I think they took her." He was shaking, and the heat from the upstairs was beginning to affect him. The banging got louder as he walked in circles. "No, I'm not sure. I...I think I can hear banging! Ask Inez, is there another door? A back room, something?" He closed his eyes as he waited for Chris to ask the question, hoping to focus more clearly on the banging. His eyes opened wide as he realized where it was coming from at the same time that Chris answered his question.

"Trapdoor!" Chris said quickly.

"She's under the floor!" Buck yelled at the same time, bending down to look more closely at the ground. He threw back one of the ratty rugs and saw the hole in the floor. A black bolt was set in a lock next to the iron rung. Dropping the phone into his pocket, he pulled on the old black iron bolt, releasing it, then grabbed the rung with both hands. With a single heave, he pulled the door upwards.

Nettie smiled back at him, the two barreled shotgun's butt facing away from him. It was with the shotgun's base that she had been banging away on the door with to get his attention.

"Thank God!" She said, clambering up the ladder to grab Buck's hand. "I hid down there with my shotgun when I heard them all moving around, thinking that maybe they were finally going to get rid of me. Well, they did me one better by simply locking me in there! I could have been down there for days before...." she stopped, and sniffed. Her eyes widened, "Is that smoke?"

"We've got to leave, Nettie, now," was all Buck would say. She looked ready to argue for a moment, then clammed up as she saw the smoke coming in through door.

"Oh Lord...my home," she whispered sadly. Buck grabbed her hand and forcibly pulled the somewhat dazed woman out of the bar. As the got outside, they could hear the sirens of New York's finest on their way. Nettie climbed into the jeep, saw Inez and braved a smile.

"They found you," she said simply as Chris pulled out, avoiding the fire trucks as they came in.

"Yes," Inez replied, looking up at the fire blazing in the upstairs windows as they tore away, "and, unfortunately, it looks as if Yates knows that too." Her eyes teared up as she looked at Nettie. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Nettie shook her head and drew Inez close. "No, Inez, I'm the one who is sorry. So, so sorry. But we're going to make this right. We have to."

+ + + + + + +

On the fifth floor of the 4C building, the elevator doors pinged and slid open. The distinct swear of an irate southerner floated out and broke the silence of the hallway. Holding the doors open, Vin watched as the lawyer continued to paw through the box he had ordered the he bounty hunter to pick up.

"What? What's the matter?"

"Its the wrong damn box! You picked up the wrong box!"

"What?"

"These aren't Royal's files!"

"Not...well what's in the box you took?"

"Yates and Spikes. Damn it! I must have mixed up the boxes when I was sorting the files. I made you take the wrong box! I'm such an idiot!" Kicking the box out of the elevator and into the hallway, Ezra reached back and hit seven.

"Take my box and that one to the other elevator bank and take the next elevator down to the subbasement," he ordered the bounty hunter. "Wait five minutes, and I'll meet you down there."

"Five minutes?" Vin asked, still not releasing his hold on the doors. Ezra nodded and gently pushed Vin's hand away.

"Five minutes. If I'm not down in that time....call Josiah." He pulled out his cell phone and tossed it to Vin. "And be careful." The doors slid shut on the elevator before Vin could reply.

Standing alone in the hallway, staring at the closed elevators doors, the ex bounty hunter sighed. Looking down at his watch, he nodded.

"Five minutes."

+ + + + + + +

"No, they're gone sir," Danny paced inside the dark offices. He was playing with the book of matches in his pocket. He listened for a moment, and shook his head. "No sir. There's no way. This place is a maze. I nearly got lost when I was trying to get lost before! No...yes...right....yes sir, Mr. Spikes. I've got it. I'll meet you next to the Westmoreland."

Hanging up the cell, the kid pulled out a match and struck it. He smiled wickedly as he looked at the chaotic paper-strewn rooms.

"This is too easy," he laughed, tossing the lit match at the nearest pile. A small blaze began almost instantly.

"NO!" Ezra's yell broke the quiet, spinning Danny around.

Ezra noticed the gun in the boy's hand a second too late.

Part Seventeen: Fire

Ezra jerked left just as the first shot rang out, feeling the burn of a bullet hit his right arm as he ducked behind several boxes of files. More shots followed from the semi automatic, peppering the packed boxes and causing paper and cardboard dust to float in the air. The tiny particles were drawn quickly into the growing fire in the center of the room, causing it to flash and flare, and black smoke filled the room rapidly.

Multiple sparks floated upwards and caught at the edge of Danny's dark denim jacket, and his gun hand jerked as he felt the burn seep through his clothing. Three shots in succession went straight into the ceiling.

On the floor, Ezra had pulled the small berretta he kept attached to his leg and, upon seeing the erratic shots, took a deep breath and, without looking, pointed the gun in the direction of where he had last seen the boy. The small weapon only had six bullets in it, and he sent all six in rapid succession at where he imagined Danny was standing.

Danny ducked to his right at the first shot, narrowly missing being hit by one of the berretta's bullets in the small space. The others went right over him as he slipped on some papers and fell on his back near another set of boxes. Looking up, his eyes widened in panic as he saw the fire was just inches from his face and moving quickly. With a yell, he scrambled backwards like a crab, losing his gun in the process.

Ezra risked looking around the corner of the boxes at the yell, then acted swiftly when he saw that Danny had lost his gun. Coming out of hiding, he dove for the weapon before Danny could and kicked it across the floor into the fire. Danny, angry and beginning to get frantic, jumped up and tackled Ezra, shoving the lawyer into the bookcase on the side wall. Both men fell to the floor as several large text books showered down around them, the tomes knocked loose by the impact. One, a particularly heavy volume of tax laws, smashed heavily on Danny's head, knocking him to the side, though he kept his grip on Ezra's bleeding arm.

The smoke was disorientating now, coating everything, the thick acrid flavor burning both men's eyes and throats. Ezra's arm was killing him, and it refused to react at all except to send messages of blinding pain to his skull as Danny gripped it and twisted. Gut reaction brought Ezra's left fist around to smash into the boy's face followed by another. Danny grunted as his vision blurred at the blows, and he let go.

The respite gave Ezra enough leverage to push himself backwards, and, now holding his arm close, he kicked out with his feet and connected solidly with Danny's head and chest. The kid rocked backwards and rolled, whimpering as his vision went completely black.

Using the bookcase as leverage to get back up to his feet, Ezra looked around and nearly choked on the smoke as he tried to pull in a breath. His eyes were puckered with tears as he tried to remember where the fire extinguisher was.

The fire surrounded them on almost all sides now. He and Yates's man were in the middle of an inferno, and though the door to the hallway promised escape, the lawyer could think of nothing but getting to the box he'd left behind in his office. He couldn't let it burn, not now. Everything Travis had on Royal was in those boxes, everything....

On the floor, Danny opened his bruised eyes and tried to clear his vision. All he could see was fire and black, and a single shadow staggering across the room, heading God knows where. He coughed violently, discovering to his horror that he couldn't breath. All that entered his lungs was burn, not oxygen. His hands scrambled around the carpeted floor, searching for something he could use as a weapon so that he could kill that son of a bitch and get the hell out of here before it was too late.

His fingers found Ezra's gun. Grinning, he lifted himself up and pointed it at Ezra's retreating back.

Empty clicks answered his squeezing of the trigger.

Screaming angrily, Danny somehow found the energy to surge to his feet, and he threw the useless weapon at Ezra's back.

The lawyer had heard the scream, and he fell sideways into the doorframe of his office as the hard object whipped past his face. Danny fell forward with the throw and landed hard on his knees. Ezra could hear him swearing angrily under his breath. Then Yates's man simply slumped down, unconscious, the smoke and the blows to the head overcoming him.

Ezra blinked for a moment, watching. Shaking his head, he moved forward next to the kid and bent down. His left hand gripped the back of the boy's jacket, taking both that and the boy's shirt in his hand. Pulling backwards, he somehow got the boy onto his side, and Ezra dragged him backwards, towards the hallway. At the door, he gave one final mighty heave and pulled the kid into the cool lobby.

Panting, trying to take in some of the still clear air here, Ezra pulled Danny across to the far side of the hall, the smooth marble floor out here making it much easier. Laying the boy on his side, the lawyer wiped some of the sweat from his brow, then headed back into the burning office, intent only on getting that last box of files.

+ + + + + + +

Vin put his boxes down on the floor of the subbasement then looked at his watch. Grimacing, he got back into the elevator and hit floor five. He wasn't going to wait the full five minutes. Like an animal sensing the change in the weather, he could feel the weight of something terribly wrong.

Part Eighteen: Ambush

Nathan was lagging behind Josiah and JD as they emerged from the subway onto Central Park West. Whether he was just tired, or there was something else, he didn't know, but he wasn't looking forward to making it to the Westmoreland. Josiah and JD hurried ahead, moving quickly with the anticipation of meeting Inez, there quiet conversation about what she might know and what it would mean for Vin and the others an excited murmur. Nathan meanwhile, fell farther and farther back, his head low as he considered his role in this whole thing. So far, Buck and Chris had done the bulk of the detecting without him, and he was wondering whether this would always be the case. He was supposed to be their apprentice, but they tended to use him more as a bodyguard for their clients and as a paper chaser than for any real work. Now they'd done it again, solved the case without him.

Squealing tires broke him out of his reverie, and he looked up in time to see a black SUV screech to a halt at the corner of the block where JD and Josiah were about to cross. Quickly, Nathan moved to the side, to hide in the shadow of the buildings as he moved up quickly to join them, hoping the owner of the SUV couldn't see him.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah instantly shoved JD behind him as the SUV's passenger door opened, revealing a semi-automatic pistol pointed directly his chest. The gunman, a woman with short brown hair, stepped out the SUV slowly, a small smile on her weathered face. On the other side, the vehicle's driver pulled out his own gun and got out to join her. Together the two gunmen flanked Josiah and his secretary.

"What do you want?" Josiah demanded angrily, still trying to cover JD, who was contrarily trying to get around Josiah to help him.

"Mr. Sanchez, you and Mr. Dunne are to come with us," the woman said. "We have been waiting for you. Our employer believes you know the whereabouts of several things that belong to him."

"You employer can go to hell," JD replied angrily, and Josiah pushed him back again.

"Please excuse the boy," Josiah said slowly, "sometimes he acts before he thinks."

The woman nodded, and jerked her head to the SUV. "Inside, both of you."

"Both...?" JD began, his thoughts suddenly wondering where Nathan had gotten, but Josiah shoved an elbow in his stomach before he could vocalize the idea.

"JD, after you," Josiah said tightly. The kid coughed a little, one hand rubbing his chest where Josiah had hit him, and stepped between the driver and the woman to the SUV's back door. He turned and looked back at Josiah, then over the lawyer's shoulder. He couldn't resist a small smile.

The driver's eyes flicked to the side to see what JD was looking at, but he wasn't quick enough to move before Nathan's throwing knife embedded itself into his gun arm. Yelling, he dropped the gun and grabbed at the knife's black hilt, his only thought to pull it out.

Reacting to the threat, the woman twisted her weapon around to face Nathan, giving Josiah the opening he needed. In two steps he had his arms around her, throwing her bodily to the ground on the sidewalk, her gun discharging uselessly into the night. The breath got knocked out of the woman, but she somehow managed to slip out of Josiah's hold. As she reached for her dropped gun, she found herself being tackled by someone lighter and even quicker, and this time she found herself pushed onto the road behind the SUV, her head impacting badly with the unyielding pavement.

The driver, meanwhile, had pulled out the knife and was leaning down to reach for his gun with his left hand. JD simply opened the SUV's back door really fast and slammed it into the guy's head. The gunman went down like a sack of feed.

Just as Josiah got back to his feet to help Nathan, a navy blue sedan roared up behind the SUV, nearly hitting the apprentice detective as he jumped backwards out of the way, the woman forgotten as she lay stunned just inches from the sedan's bumper.

Before Nathan could duck, gunfire from the sedan's window knocked him backwards, one shot to the arm, the other to his side as he fell into Josiah, knocking both men down.

JD dived into the empty SUV and moved up into the driver's seat, thankful that it had been kept running, and slammed it into reverse.

The woman on the ground rolled out of the way just in time to stop herself from being sandwiched between the SUV and the sedan. The much larger truck instantly crushed the sedan's hood, and the smaller car was roughly shoved backwards into the parked car behind it. JD didn't hit the brakes until the backdoor was opposite to where Josiah was gripping Nathan's unconscious body in his arms.

"Get in!" JD yelled at Josiah, snapping the older man's head up. Without time to think, Josiah heaved Nathan up and shoved him into the back seat just as another hail of bullets smacked into the SUV's rear door and window. Bulletproof glass held up under the onslaught, and Josiah clambered in after Nathan and yelled at JD to move it.

The SUV surged forward, and JD squealed down Central Park West, heading for downtown.

Behind them, the sedan bucked and stalled, the damage to its front radiator and core too severe for it to keep running. The two men inside got out, ears cocked to the wind to listen for sirens. The driver was a bald man with a patch over his eye, and he gripped his hands into fists. Pulling his own gun from his holster, he shot the unconscious driver that JD had knocked out, then indicated to the woman, who was dazed but on her feet, and the other man to follow him as he jogged across the street and into the park. As they moved, he pulled out his phone and hit redial.

"Yates, this is Spikes. Sanchez got away. I know. How's Danny doing? Fuck. All right. We'll keep covering this damned area, but we've left alot of blood around. Not sure how much longer it'll take before the cops come. This ain't Queens you know. Yeah. Fine."

In moments, all three were lost inside the dark trees and bushes of Central Park.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah gripped at Nathan's side, his eyes wide with horror as he tried to staunch the flow of blood. JD, his eyes narrowed and determined, careened down the nearly empty streets towards Roosevelt hospital. He'd learned to drive in Boston, and the way he flew past cabs and other cars as if they were merely tumbleweeds reflected that. Right now, he owned these streets. A cop came up behind them, sirens blaring, obviously disagreeing with JD's ownership, but the kid ignored him.

In moments, he pulled into the emergency area and jumped out, yelling for a doctor. The police car pulled in behind him, and, when the cop's partner saw Josiah and the bleeding man inside the car, immediately started to help. The other tried to get to JD to get answers as to what the hell had happened, but the kid was already doing his best to tell the doctors and nurses about Nathan's history and what he had seen. The policeman stepped back and waited, listening with half an ear, but never letting JD out of his sight.

As Josiah followed Nathan into the emergency room, he found his way blocked, prevented from going any farther by a nurse asking him to wait outside. Seeing the blood on his clothes, she asked if he was all right, and he nodded dumbly. Patting him on the arm and whispering assurances, she left him there and went after the doctors.

Josiah stood staring at the swinging doors for a moment, before thinking to turn and look for JD. He saw the kid speaking with a police officer. At that moment, he also noticed that another police officer was standing next to him, watching and waiting. The policeman was not too tall and quite wide in girth, with a long, kempt beard and a solid looking face. As Josiah noticed him, the officer nodded back.

"Can I...can I make a phone call?" the lawyer asked the policeman quietly. "It's to his family."

The policeman nodded, "Sure, Mr. Sanchez."

Josiah blinked, not wondering how this man knew his name, and pulled out his phone to call Chris, then Nathan's father.

+ + + + + + +

They were just minutes from the midtown tunnel when Chris's phone rang. Buck picked it up, his face cast in shadow, and even from the corner of his eye Chris could see Buck's expression redden in anger as he listened to whomever was speaking on the other side. Then the cowboy sighed and put a hand to his eyes.

"Roosevelt hospital? Where is that, 59th? Christ. And you think they're more waiting for us to show up at the Westmoreland. Damn. You called Ez? No? Sure, yeah, we'll do it. You going to call the police?" Buck snorted, "Well, that's impressive. What's the officer's name? Garner? Yosemite Garner?" Buck gave a short laugh. "You sure as hell got lucky, Josiah. Trust him. I know the man. Yeah. He probably knows you too. Yup. All right. Get protection, we'll be there after we get Ez and Vin."

Chris glanced over at Buck, his eyes worried. Buck shook his head.

"Nathan's been shot. They were ambushed on the way to Ezra's, right on Central Park West. Yates has probably been staking it out ever since those bastards found out Ezra was on this case, and attacked Josiah, JD and Nathan on their way there tonight. We probably can't even get close without suffering a similar fate."

"Nathan going to be all right?"

"I don't know. Josiah's at the hospital with JD, waiting on word. Get this, by pure luck, Yosemite followed them in. He and his partner, whom I'm guessing is Weathers, should be able to protect them for now."

Chris nodded, his expression getting even darker. In the distance, he could see the light from the tolls to enter the tunnel.

"Better call Ezra now, we'll be in the tunnel in a minute. They're probably in a cab halfway to the Westmoreland by now."

But Buck had already dialed, and was holding the phone to his ear.

His expression got even darker as the phone rang and rang, without picking up.

Part Nineteen: Smoke

As the elevator slowly rose from the fifth to the seventh floor, the smell of smoke became more and more obvious. Vin started to breath more quickly, his imagination easily guessing what was happening. He'd heard about Bob Spikes from Buck - the man was a serial arsonist. Whatever he couldn't have, he burned. It was as easy as breathing to the man. If Spikes, Yates or one of his other men was up there with Ezra....

The elevator came to an abrupt halt as the power was cut off. The lights flickered, and Vin grabbed the bar on the side as the small box bounced a few times before coming to a halt. At the same time, the sound of the fire alarm coming to life cut through the metal box from the outside, charging the silence and making Vin recoil in sudden panic.

"No!" he screamed, his fists slamming at the unopened doors. His claustrophobia flared into life, choking him, and he rapidly turned in circles as if another way out would suddenly materialize if he just looked hard enough.

Desperately, he started hitting the emergency buttons and the open door button, already knowing they wouldn't work. All the doors did was breath for a moment.

Screaming swears, Vin slammed a fist into the panel.

The doors slid open an inch.

Vin's mouth fell open, surprised. He could see through the crack that the doors had halted just slightly off from the seventh floor. Smoke from the hallway started to fill up the top of the elevator, excited to find a new space to fill.

Vin stared wild-eyed at the smoke, and then remembered Ezra. Focusing on that one idea -- that he had to get to his friend -- he somehow managed to forget his fear for a few moments. Putting his hands inside the small opening, he pushed and pulled at the doors, yelling with each inch of give he got.

Bit by bit, the doors opened until, with one sudden hiss, they opened completely. The abrupt release caused the ex bounty hunter to fall into the opening of the hallway, the landing's floor at his knees.

Vin almost started laughing, but quickly lost the urge as he saw the black smoke rolling across the seventh floor's ceiling.

In a single fluid move, he jumped up onto the landing and started running straight into the smoke.

+ + + + + + +

Buck tapped the small cell phone repeatedly against his leg as they drove through the tunnel, his nervousness and anger displaying themselves in the repetitive motion. Chris simply gripped the wheel tighter, his eyes focused on the rear lights of the vehicle in front of him.

The midtown tunnel emptied out right into 42nd street. In moments they'd be right under the 4C building.

In the back, Inez and Nettie gripped each other's hands, feeling their hope slipping away. A blackness had filled the older woman's heart, and she felt certain that it wouldn't be long before this whole horrible cycle came to a terrible end.

Damn Royal, Yates and that bastard Spikes. It was probably Spikes or his men that had set fire to her home and business. Her whole life, gone.

Inez gripped Nettie's hand tighter.

The old woman sighed and nodded. I know, she said silently to the Mexican woman next to her. It's too late to turn back now. Much too late.

The tunnel exit appeared at the far end, the black and orange night sky a welcome sight. Almost there.

Chris pressed on the accelerator, getting closer to the car in front. Finally the other car moved over, getting into the lane that would send it down 2nd Avenue. Chris smiled grimly as they shot past the smaller vehicle and out into the night.

And immediately screeched to a halt to avoid ramming a police car.

Red, yellow and blue lights filled the sky as fire trucks and police cars blocked off the wide street. More fire trucks arrived as Chris watched, and all he could do was stare open mouthed at the sight of fire and smoke billowing out of the seventh floor windows of the Four Corners building just a block down on the left.

A cop walked up next to the halted vehicle and indicated for Chris to turn around, but the blond man ignored him. Gunning the accelerator, Chris drove forward past the startled officer and down the street to join the fire trucks, winding in and out of the arriving police cars. The officer that had been sent to direct traffic blew hard on his whistle and ran after him.

Bringing the jeep to a halt near the building's front, Chris jumped out after yelling at Buck to stay with Inez and Nettie, and ran for the building.

A fireman tackled him from behind, and Chris kicked him off. Two more firemen grabbed him as he got up, and though Chris fought hard, they somehow managed to force him to his knees.

"What the hell are you doing!" another fireman yelled, kneeling down in front of Chris. His helmet marked him as a captain.

"Two men are up there! On the seventh floor! I have to help them!" He pulled at the arms restraining him.

"Two men?" The fireman's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure? It's half past four in the morning!"

"They're in there! You have to let me get to them." Chris pulled again, trying to get free. "Damn it, Let me go! Let me GO!"

Several police officers had joined them now, and one of them said something about getting out the cuffs. The captain shook his head at them, then looked back at Chris.

"If they're up there, mister, we'll find them." Standing up, the captain and motioned four of his men over. He quickly explained the situation to them, and the four firemen nodded and ran off to get their air masks and other gear. Then the captain looked back at Chris.

"Listen to me," the captain said, "calm down. If your men are up there, we'll get them out. It's what we do, understand? You have to stay here." The captain stared hard at Chris's eyes for a moment, then nodded when Chris finally lowered his eyes in acquiescence. He captain motioned for the men holding the detective to let him go.

"Now, where are they?"

Chris shook a little as he explained the way to the seventh floor, and to Standish and Sanchez's office. He completed the description with a plea for the captain and his men to hurry. The captain nodded, then went to talk to his men. In moments, the firemen were in the building and making their way to the seventh floor.

Chris stood and backed away a few steps. His legs felt like jelly as he watched the flames. It was happening again. He was going to lose to the fire again.

Something snapped inside the detective, and his legs gave way beneath him. He never even noticed as Buck came to his side, Inez and Nettie right behind him. The small group of people stayed close together, Buck asking Chris to say something, but all Chris could do was stare upwards. Soon all four were staring hopelessly upwards, waiting for some sort of sign.

The police flanked them. Buck had done his best to explain what was happening before going to join Chris, and now, after getting some conformation for his story from Yosemite Garner and some of the cops from Buck and Chris's old precinct, the police had taken up the role of protectors.

+ + + + + + +

Josiah watched as Yosemite put away his radio, the stout officer's expression grave. A few minutes before, a call had come in for the man, and he had left Josiah to answer it. Now, as he came back, his brown eyes watching Josiah carefully, the lawyer knew something more was wrong.

"What?"

JD was leaning against the wall, one foot tapping on the toe of the other. When he heard Josiah's voice he looked up. Then he too looked over at Yosemite.

"Mr. Sanchez, Mr. Dunne....I'm sorry to have to tell you this, especially now, but there is a fire in the 4C building, on your floor. It looks to have started in your offices."

JD frowned, standing up straight, "A fire? How bad?"

Josiah simply pulled out his cell phone and looked at it. No messages. "He hasn't called me yet," the lawyer whispered. "Why hasn't he called? Chris said he'd call him."

"How bad?" JD repeated, looking at the officer.

"I'm not sure. Its sounded pretty localized," Yosemite answered. "Not enough to harm the building. Probably just your floor."

Josiah looked up, "Do they know if anyone was still in there?"

Hearing the fear in the older man's voice, JD put a hand on Josiah's arm. "It's all right, Josiah. Ezra called us to say he and Vin were leaving, remember? That was ages ago. They're probably meeting up with Chris as we speak."

Yosemite made a strange noise. Sort of like he was being strangled.

JD frowned more deeply, then looked back at the cop.

Yosemite was fingering the radio, looking uncomfortable.

"Is there more?" the kid asked quietly.

Yosemite sighed.

"I was just asked to confirm the story of Chris Larabee that he and the people with him needed protection. They arrived in front of the 4C Building at almost the same time as the fire trucks. And...I was also asked to support his belief that two people may still be trapped on the seventh floor."

Yosemite lowered his head as Josiah shut his eyes, and JD fell back against the wall he was leaning on.

"I'm sorry Mr. Sanchez," the cop said. "I know how...." He stopped as the doctor in charge of Nathan's case pushed through the swinging doors.

Upon seeing the men there, the doctor made a beeline for Josiah, his face grim.

+ + + + + + +

Vin had his plaid shirt over his mouth as he pushed down the hallway. He'd picked up the fire extinguisher from the alcove near the stairwell and was holding it before him as much as a weapon as for safety.

He spotted Danny first, the kid still lying on his side against the wall opposite the lawyer's office. Kneeling down next to him to check for a pulse, Vin recognized the face from the description Josiah had given earlier of the "messenger." He was impressed by the bruises and the bloody lip and nose. Someone had given the kid a good battering.

But if it was Ezra, where the hell was he?

Leaving the kid for now, Vin turned to look into the office, keeping his head low. The heat emanating from the room was powerful, nearly knocking him down where he stood. He could feel his energy ebbing as he contemplated going in there.

Stubbornly gritting his teeth, he raised the fire extinguisher up and plunged into the blackness.

Smoke surrounded him like a blanket, though it parted here and there to allow him to see a little. The fire helped some, ironically; at least it shed light and helped him to discern shapes. Moving around, it didn't take him long to discover that Josiah's office door was still closed, and that Ezra's was wide open. Squatting to see better, Vin looked through the open door and saw him.

The lawyer was lying face down on the floor in front of his desk, his head turned away from Vin.

"Ezra!" Vin moved swiftly, forgetting how hot and tired he was, forgetting the smoke in his lungs and the ache in his limbs. Pushing through to the office, spraying the fire extinguisher to make a clearer path, he got inside and knelt down next to his friend.

Pressing his fingers against the man's cool neck, he was thankful to feel a slow if erratic pulse. Looking him over, he frowned when he saw the blood soaked arm. He had no idea how much blood Ezra had lost, but he prayed it wasn't too much. Pulling off his plaid shirt, he wrapped the arm tightly, then turned Ezra over. Pulling the lawyer up, he got the unconscious man to his feet, then tipped him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Gingerly, Vin also somehow managed to kneel down and grab the fire extinguisher he had dropped in order to pick Ezra up.

Spraying foam before him, he knocked enough of the fire back to get out of the small room and back into the main office.

Fire flared up suddenly before him, blocking his path and sending him sideways.

Somehow the fire seemed to have gotten worse, or perhaps his fears were finally starting to overcome him. Either way, Vin found himself strangely disoriented as he tried to see through the billowing smoke towards the front door of the main office. If he could just bend down, he thought, he could see under the smoke, but between the burden he carried and the fire at his feet he knew he couldn't. He turned in a circle, not remembering whether the way out was on his left or his right. Was Ezra's office on the right or the left?

The heat was getting worse, and his lungs were threatening to collapse. Ezra was getting heavier by the minute.

Oh God, he thought horribly, we're not going to make it!

Then the smoke parted. Just briefly, but it was enough. He saw the door!

Staggering now, he nearly collapsed as he pressed through the opening and felt the smooth surface of the hallway beneath his feet. His legs dragging, he turned right, towards where he knew the stairs were.

He'd get Ezra out of there. He'd get them both out of there.

Just moments later, he felt Ezra being pulled away from him and the sound of voices. The thought that Yates or Spikes was there, trying to take Ezra away, to kill him, entered his fuzzy mind, and he fought with the voices. He even swung the fire extinguisher around, and felt someone easily grab it away from him.

Then Ezra was taken.

He'd failed.

Crying out, he tried to take one more blind swing at the people surrounding him, but without sight or breath he was too weak. He felt someone grab his fist and someone else pushed him down.

And that was all he knew.

Part Twenty: Ashes

Chris regained his feet as he saw the firemen re-emerge from the building, three burdens thrown over their shoulders. Dumbly, he saw the paramedics swarm in and take over, checking over the three men.

Three men?

Mechanically, he headed over to see if any of them were alive. If Ezra and Vin were dead and the other wasn't....Chris's frown became so deep on his shadowed features it made him look demonic. Nettie sighed and followed him, feeling at a loss as to how to help him.

Buck had an arm around Inez as he followed the other two over to where the paramedics were working. She didn't seem to mind. They saw Vin placed on a blanket, and a red headed young man placed next to him. When asked of their identities, Buck could only properly identify Vin. Inez tilted her head as she saw the former bounty hunter, her memory of the last time she had seen him coming back in full force. Not noticing her bleak expression, Buck walked her over to the messenger and fought the urge to kick him.

"This red headed one is probably the one who started the fire," Buck informed the paramedic attending him. The woman just nodded and went back to her work. Fault meant nothing to her at the moment.

Ezra was placed on a blanket on the other side, and, in the sickly orange streetlights, the blood soaked arm looked ghastly. Another paramedic knelt down next to him, checked the arm then pressed her fingers to his neck.

"No breath, no pulse," she quietly informed her partner, causing Buck to grip Inez's shoulder fiercely. The other paramedic looked up from where she was attaching an oxygen mask to the red head and instantly ordered one of the firemen to get the shock kit from out of the ambulance. Then she joined her partner in administering CPR.

What happened next was a blur to Buck, as bags were ripped and orders yelled. Someone asked him to step back, and he felt Inez lay a hand on his chest to encourage him to do as he was asked. He barely registered that she was there, though he was leaning quite heavily on her now. She never complained.

On Ezra's other side, Vin started to come around, and he did so fighting. He called out for Ezra, demanding to know where they had taken him, but nothing the firefighters said seemed to get through. Eventually, Chris got down next to him and put his face right in Vin's line of sight, one hand on his chest.

"It's all right, Vin. He's safe."

To the firefighter's amazement, that was all it took. The ex bounty hunter settled down immediately, and, after a moment, seemed to fall asleep.

"Heat exhaustion and smoke inhalation," the fireman said to Chris as the private detective stepped back again. "He should be fine. Got a lot of fight in him."

Chris nodded, then looked over at Ezra. They had the shock paddles out now, and the detective had to look away. Facing down 42nd towards the Chrysler, he thought about Josiah, and what he would have to tell him if...if....

"Clear!" the paramedic called, applying the paddles.

"No conversion," her partner stated. "Do it again."

Chris's hands gripped into fists. What would the older man do if he lost both Nathan and Ezra tonight? What would any of them do? How much had he come to think of the seventh floor of that building as his family...and now it was burning.

The Chrysler seemed unusually bright tonight. Very white against the darkness.

"Clear!" the paramedic yelled again, applying the shock paddles for the second time.

"Got a pulse!" the paramedic called to her partner, her hand on Ezra's chest.

All around them, New York's finest breathed a sigh of relief. Buck closed his eyes and Inez felt him loosen his hold on her. Nettie stood watching Chris. She had seen his body flinch when the paramedic yelled out that Ezra had a pulse, but he hadn't turned around yet. He was still staring over at the Chrysler building as if he could see something more in the bright shining lights at its top.

In the background, the paramedics rapidly prepared the three men for transport. As they were lifted up onto the gurneys, Buck asked where they were being taken.

"NYU," the paramedic replied.

"Can you take them to Roosevelt instead? There are people there...."

The paramedic cut him off, "I'm sorry. Your friend there," she pointed to Ezra, "can't afford to wade through the early morning traffic. NYU is the closest. As soon as the doctor's say he is stable, we'll see about moving him. But perhaps you could get in touch with his family? They'll need that at the hospital."

Buck sighed, and nodded.

"Does anyone want to ride in the ambulance with them?" she asked the four people.

"No...we'll follow in our car," Chris said, finally turning around again to join the conversation. "Thank you."

The paramedic nodded, and went to rejoin her partner at Ezra's side. Both he and Vin were being placed in the same ambulance. At Buck's suggestions, the red-headed arsonist was getting his own.

Chris pulled out his cell phone to call Josiah as Buck led the way back to the jeep. The older lawyer was Ezra's family, for all intents and purposes. Legal next of kin, Ezra had named him.

The police ghosting them were barely even noticed now.

+ + + + + + +

Over the phone, Nathan's father had given the okay for the doctor to operate, and, after promising to find Josiah as soon as it was over, the doctor had disappeared back through the emergency doors with an assurance that Nathan would be all right. One bullet had merely grazed the detective's arm, but the other had impacted his stomach. They were going in to repair the damage and had every reason to believe that the operation would be a success. Damage seemed minimal, and the bleeding under control.

Nathan would be all right. It would take him time to recover, but he would be all right.

He was very lucky, the doctor had said.

Lucky.

"It's going to be all right, Josiah." JD was gripping his arm in the waiting room, repeating that phrase over and over like a mantra. But Josiah was somewhere else.

When his phone rang, JD had to answer it. Reaching across Josiah's vest, he pulled the phone from the lawyer's breast pocket.

"Hey Chris...NYU medical, huh? Okay. How...?" JD's eyes shut, and he sighed heavily. The he opened them again. "I'll tell him. Nathan? Doctor says he was lucky....Yeah, I know. They're going to remove his spleen. He'll be here a while. Yeah...Yeah....I'll tell him. Okay. Right."

Hanging up, JD swallowed and saw that Josiah was watching him now.

"Ezra...," JD paused, then plunged on, "They're both alive, Josiah. Vin breathed in too much smoke and got hit by the heat. Ezra has the same problem, but worse. He was...he was also shot, Josiah. But, they've got him stabilized. He's on his way to NYU. The doctor's there will probably be calling you soon here."

Josiah blinked, listening to all of this very carefully. Then he leaned forward and buried his head in his hands.

JD's lower lip trembled, but he stilled it, set his jaw and started rubbing Josiah's back fiercely.

"It'll be all right, Josiah. I promise. It's going to be just fine."

Part Twenty-One: Stirring the Embers

When he first opened his eyes, he couldn't understand what he was looking at. He could see white tubing and some other very bright things, but he didn't know what any of them meant.

He was also painfully aware that he hurt. His throat hurt the most, then his arm, and then his feet. Why his feet hurt, he didn't know. Probably because he could barely move them. And his back hurt. Everything hurt.

A tear leaked from one eye.

Sounds assaulted him next, including some odd beeping and, in the background, voices. He tried to hear what the voices were saying, but they were muffled. Behind a door. He heard someone laughing. Someone else sounded like they were shouting.

Where was he?

He tilted his head and tried to see more of the room. He exulted when he managed to move not just his head, but his body as well. His legs shifted and some of the pain in his back lessened for a moment.

At the same time, he realized that there had been something warm holding his hand. He noticed it because it went away when he moved. His fingers curled, wanting the warmth back but afraid because he didn't know who had been holding his hand.

"Son?"

Josiah?

Josiah!

Without conscious thought, he lifted his arm and reached out, and he felt Josiah take his hand again. Then the man in question leaned over and placed his other warm hand on Ezra's forehead.

Ezra wanted to smile, but all he could do was stare up at Josiah, and hope the other man could read his gaze. Josiah smiled. He could.

"You're in Roosevelt Hospital, son. Nathan is in the bed next to yours. You both got banged up a bit, but you are also both going to be okay." Josiah lifted his hand and brushed Ezra's hair back from his forehead. Ezra just continued to watch him.

"You've been here about four days," Josiah continued, "and I've had this conversation with you before. But, this time, I think you can actually hear me now. Am I right?" He looked down at Ezra, and the lawyer blinked once, slowly. Josiah smiled again. It looked like a yes to him and he put both his hands around Ezra's.

"Good. Listen, you need your rest, but I wanted to let you know that Yates is in custody, along with most of their flunkeys, and Bob Spikes is on the run. Those papers you had Vin take downstairs had a wealth of information in them. Once Vin showed me how you deciphered them, it was a piece of cake to read through the rest." He took a breath, and Ezra blinked.

"Inez Roscillos has also given her statement," Josiah said, unconsciously rubbing Ezra's hand to warm it. "The INS is letting her stay in the country pending a hearing on a motion I've submitted to get Vin's case dismissed on the basis of the new evidence, and pending the trial of Yates and Spikes. I've also instituted the papers to try and get her a visa, ostensibly in return for her testimony. I believe that, if we sponsor her, there should be no problem." Josiah shook his head as Ezra's face screwed up a little at the idea, but luckily the man couldn't argue in his current state so the older lawyer plunged on.

"Anyway, Nettie Wells has also promised to testify, though I'm not sure how much help her testimony will be. Seems she stayed as much out of the loop as possible to protect Casey. Still, she'll do what she can. The best news is, there is every sign that Vin may not have to go to trial after the hearing. But even if he does, I doubt it the prosecutor will make much of a case. When you're better, I'll tell you about it."

Josiah stopped, as, somewhere around the news that Vin may not have to go to trial, Ezra had closed his eyes again. Sighing heavily, he sat back down in his chair.

"I know you can't hear me anymore, but I wanted you to know that it's all right that you couldn't save Travis's papers on Guy Royal. The man is slippery, son. And he's still out there. But, at the moment, he's no longer interested in us. Vin's free, or just about. We're just going to have to be satisfied with that." He nodded to himself, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince Ezra.

Josiah looked up at the clock then back at Ezra. In a few moments, JD would come and replace him so he could go and work some more on Vin's case, but for now he was happy just to watch Ezra breath.

Over next to the other bed, Buck was sitting with his feel propped up on Nathan's bed, asleep in his chair. He'd been switching off with Chris in watching over their apprentice. Nathan seemed to be recovering quickly, far better than Ezra. He was already in physical therapy, and Buck and Chris had been told he was already moving well beyond what the doctors had expected. It seemed he was especially responding to the fact that Buck kept calling him a hero. Though Nathan pretended not to care what the other's thought of him, having JD gushing over him and both Buck and Chris praising him had kept a smile on Nathan's face.

Truth is, Nathan was actually awake and listening alternately to Buck's snoring and Josiah's quiet speech to Ezra. The apprentice smiled, thinking how glad he was that all his friends were still on one piece. They'd done good, he thought, using one of Buck's favorite phrases.

And from the sounds of it, Ezra would soon be able to start arguing with him again.

Yeah, Nathan decided, this really was a good, good day.

+ + + + + + +

Vin stood in the blackened offices, his gray eyes taking in the charred bookcases and the piles of ash at his feet. Josiah's door was open, revealing a fairly intact room only damaged by smoke, but Ezra's office was practically impassable. After almost a week, water still dripped from the walls in places and the smell of burning was overwhelming. Even with all the windows open to allow in the summer breeze, the rooms couldn't shake the smell of fire.

As he kicked a bit of burnt paper, Chris wandered in and leaned against the ruined doorframe. The detective sniffed, coughed and gave Vin a slight smile.

"Place never looked neater," he remarked dryly, crossing his arms. Vin raised an eyebrow, and shook his head.

"Luckily," Chris continued, watching as Vin knelt down to sift through some of the blackened rubbish for anything intact, "Buck's and my office is unscathed. Fire was contained in here. Everything smells a bit, but other than that...;" he shrugged. Vin stood up and walked over to Josiah's office to look inside.

"I'm responsible for this," the ex bounty hunter said quietly. "All their work, their papers...Ezra and Nathan in the hospital."

Chris shrugged, "Yup."

He smiled as Vin gave him a dirty look.

"Look Tanner," Chris said, walking inside and shifting some of the mess with his feet, "Most of this stuff JD had transferred to the computer. The hard disks were safe in the closet in Josiah's office, and the rest is stored on the office's network that the kid set up. It's been his life for a year now, ever since they hired him. Sure there are some things they won't get back, but Ezra and Josiah are very clever. Somehow they'll work this to the advantage of their clients and themselves. I promise you."

Vin just shook his head.

Chris leaned down and picked up a Sanchez & Standish business card that somehow escaped with only a burnt edge. He rolled it around his fingers.

"You can't escape fate, Vin. You didn't set this all in motion, you know. Not even Travis did that. You're just another unlucky jerk in the wrong place."

Vin snorted, "Maybe, but if I hadn't hired Josiah and Ezra, you and the others wouldn't...."

"What? You'd have gone to jail or even the chair for a crime you didn't commit? Let Yates and Spikes get away with it?"

Vin shrugged. Chris scowled.

"Suppose you'd gone with the public defender's office, Tanner. How much time do you think they have to investigate each of their clients? The police had already given up on you, and once they do, the PD's office often just makes do. They have no time, no money and even less patience. With no one to interfere, Inez may never have run from Yates; And when Royal and Spikes got tired of Nettie and Casey, who would have rescued them from beneath that burning trapdoor?"

Vin just shrugged again. Chris sighed.

"Ezra and Nathan are alive, Vin. Yates is going behind bars. Spikes is on the run, and Royal's taken a low profile. Inez Roscillos has a shot at living here legally, and Casey and Nettie Wells have the chance to start anew. Those are all good things."

Vin shrugged, and looked around again.

Chris watched him for a moment, then walked over to stand in front of him in order to catch Vin's eye.

"Believe me, Tanner, things could have gone far worse. You did everything you were supposed to. And you were there to get Ezra when he needed you."

"Yeah?" Vin challenged, meeting his eyes, "What do you know about it? If I'd been just a minute later, Ezra would have died in this fire! Then how would you feel about me, Larabee?"

Chris just stared at him hard for a moment, until Vin looked away, abashed. Then the detective walked back to the door.

"Let's just say I know something about not being on time, Tanner," he said darkly.

Vin shut his eyes, feeling, as usual, that he was missing something. As he tried to figure out what it was, Chris sighed and looked down at his watch.

"It's time, Vin."

The former bounty hunter was stirring some of the ashes with his foot. At Chris's statement, he looked up. Chris's face had gone stony. Any openness the detective had shown him a moment before was gone. For some reason, Vin knew he had really screwed up somehow.

"Chris...I'm sorry."

The detective frowned, looking back at him, "What? Why?"

Vin gave him a wry smile, "For being an idiot."

Chris watched him a moment longer, then smiled as well. "Yeah well, you're in good company on this floor." He tapped his watch, "We need to leave, or there won't be enough time to get you to your hearing."

Vin took in a deep breath and nodded, "Then let's get this over with."

Part Twenty-Two: The Hearing

"This is a hearing regarding the People versus Vin Tanner," the judge said, reading off the document in front of him. He looked up at Vin, "You have been accused of the murder of Stephen Travis, former District Attorney for the city of New York. This hearing is to determine whether, in the light of new evidence, there is still enough to warrant a trial."

Josiah patted Vin's shoulder as the judge looked over at the prosecutor.

"Mr. Staines?" the judge asked.

Russell Staines stood up and shuffled some of his papers. He looked tired, as all government lawyers generally do, and somewhat withdrawn.

"Your honor, at this time the people are still not certain as to the veracity of the new evidence. The defense's primary witness is an illegal alien, clearly a crime of fraud and dishonesty. Consequently, her credibility as a witness is seriously undermined and the State would argue that a jury would need to weigh that...."

"Yes, yes," the judge waived a hand. "The point is obvious. No," he leaned forward on his bench, "what I want to know is, what about the new evidence that there were others in the Black Rose that night? Men with actual motives to kill DA Travis as well as opportunity. I have read nothing here to establish that you have a motive for Mr. Tanner. Or am I wrong about this?"

The prosecutor wiped a hand over his eyes and sighed, "At this time, your honor, we have not pinpointed an actual motive. However, we can not rule out the possibility that Mr. Tanner was an accomplice at the very least, perhaps for money. The evidence of the gun in his hands and the powder on his hands along with the convenience of his memory loss and his proximity to the body suggest...."

"Yes, thank you Mr. Staines. I can read. I just wanted to see how vehemently you could defend your position, which, I might add, is not particularly deep. Now, Mr. Sanchez...is Mr. Standish going to be joining us today?" The judge looked questioningly at the older lawyer. Josiah stood and sighed.

"I'm sorry, your honor, but no."

"Don't tell me he's trying to withdraw without leave again," the judge said wryly. Josiah's eyes flew up from the paper he held in his hand to stare fixedly at the judge's face. The judge's small smile fell.

"My partner is in the hospital, your honor. And I would appreciate it if you did not bring up his past history again."

The judge's eyes narrowed slightly, and he shifted in his seat. Next to Josiah, Vin frowned, confused, but didn't say anything.

"Well, regardless, Mr. Sanchez, Mr. Staines has brought up some valid points."

"Yes your honor, he has. However, I believe that, despite Mr. Staines' arguments to the contrary, our witness's credibility will be obvious on the stand, and that her testimony will overcome all doubt as to the innocence of my client. She is the only witness to the events of that evening, and her story corresponds with the evidence the DA has, including filling in all his holes. There will be little or no fact finding for a jury to do once they hear her, which is why I would argue that a trial is, in the end, simply not necessary. And, finally, of course, as you yourself have already pointed out, your honor, there is still no motive in this case."

The judge nodded and looked behind Josiah. "Is your witness here, Mr. Sanchez?"

"Yes your honor." Josiah looked behind him as well. Inez sat wrapped in a shawl over a simple dress. Chris sat on one side and Buck on the other. She looked small, a little apprehensive, but also somehow proud.

"Well then, let's hear her," the judge waved Inez up. She looked at Josiah, surprised.

"Hearing's tend to be a little informal, Inez," the lawyer assured her. "Go on."

Nervously, she stood up and walked past Chris to the aisle. In moments she was sitting next to the judge and he swore her in.

"Ms. Roscillos," the judge said, smiling at her, "do you understand why you are here?"

"To tell you what happened?"

The judge shook his head, "Close enough. Go ahead."

Inez looked at Vin, then at the floor before she started speaking. Taking a deep breath, she looked up and began.

"I met Stephen Travis well over a year ago, when he was introduced to me by Nettie Wells. She owns the bar I managed," she explained. The judge nodded at her to continue.

"Anyway," she continued, "I knew that Mr. Travis was looking for information on a group of gentlemen who worked for Guy Royal, a lodger – if you can call him that – of the Black Rose. Marshal Yates and Bob Spikes both worked for him. I suppose that, because of my...status as an illegal, they didn't have much problem talking around me. With Nettie's encouragement, I took what I learned to Mr. Travis. I rarely learned anything concrete, but I suppose some of what I could tell him was useful, as he used to pay me well for it. He was a good man." She sighed and looked at Vin.

"The last piece of information I gave Mr. Travis concerned a new arrival in town, someone Marshal Yates had mentioned he was very excited to see. An old friend, Yates called him, Eli Joe. When I informed Mr. Travis, he seemed particularly interested in this. I guess this Eli Joe was a notorious drug runner and killer, not too mention being wanted by the police. Mr. Travis thought that perhaps this was the connection he was looking for to tie Guy Royal to some sort of drug deal. And the only way Mr. Travis thought he could definitively make that connection was to come to the Black Rose and try to overhear their conversation." She shook her head.

"I did try to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen. I told him that Royal knew the bar too well, that even if I could sneak Mr. Travis in, where would I hide him?" She shrugged, "In the end, it didn't matter what I said. Mr. Travis came about three days before he died and I hid him in the bar's basement. It was all I could think of. I figured, so long as I could stop anyone else from going down there for supplies, it would be all right. So, for two days Mr. Travis listened at the pipes, waiting for Eli Joe to arrive, at which point, I was supposed to find a way to get Mr. Travis upstairs and into the room next to Royal's office."

She stopped, her voice having cracked on the last sentence. Wiping a tear from her eye, she took another deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. The judge nodded and handed her a handkerchief. She smiled at him, then returned to her story.

"Anyway, about the same time that I hid Mr. Travis in the basement, Mr. Tanner there arrived at the bar. I remember watching him, because he always seemed to be waiting for someone. He came every night at the same time." She nodded at Vin, while he studiously examined the grain of the wood of the table in front of him.

She shook her head then. "Three days later, Eli Joe arrived. He walked in like he owned the place, shook hands with Marshal Yates, and disappeared upstairs. As I was going to fetch Mr. Travis from the basement, Yates stepped over and blocked my way. He just smiled, and told me that he would fetch my burden for me. Before I knew what was happening, I saw Stephen Travis at the door to the storeroom, looking very worried. Bob Spikes was at his back, and I am guessing there was a gun in his back. As Mr. Travis was taken upstairs, Yates joined me behind the bar. All I could do was stand there as he took over. That was when Mr. Tanner there arrived again." She paused and swallowed hard.

"Mr. Tanner sat at the bar, ordered a drink and went about his business as he always does. I saw Yates uncork a bottle of whiskey and pour Mr. Tanner a drink. Then, when Mr. Tanner's back was turned, hr dropped something into it. I...I wanted to say something but...." she shook her head, and her shoulders trembled.

"Mr. Tanner was barely conscious when Yates ordered me to help him upstairs, and I could hear that they were whispering in his ear about Eli Joe being upstairs. When we got there, I saw they had bound Mr. Travis to a chair. Mr. Tanner was sat opposite him, though I don't think he was awake any more, and Eli Joe drew Mr. Tanner's gun, still whispering in his ear that he was going to shoot Eli Joe. At that point, I was led from the room. Yates led me back downstairs and out the back. As he had me get into his car, I heard the shots from upstairs. I knew then that...."

She stopped, her breathing coming out in gasps as she recalled the image of seeing Travis staring at her with those pleading eyes. She might as well have killed him herself. It had all been a set up, and she had walked right into it. More tears fell down her face, and she had to cover it with her hands to hide her shame.

"So...you did not actually see DA Travis's murder," the judge commented.

Inez shook her head, lowering her hands to her lap. "No. Yates took me to his home, and I was kept there until Mr. Larabee and Mr. Wilmington came to get me." She looked over at the two detectives and tried to smile. Then she looked back down at her hands in her lap. "But there is no way Mr. Tanner could have pulled the trigger in the state he was in without help, your honor. They pulled that trigger for him, then set him up. Of this I am certain."

The judge watched her a moment, then looked across at the prosecutor.

"Mr. Staines, do you seriously doubt the credibility of this witness?"

The prosecutor stood up upon being named and stammered a little. "You honor...."

"It seems to me that what she says makes a great deal of sense, don't you think? It certainly explains all those holes you had. I also believe her role as Travis's informant has been amply corroborated both by paper evidence, by Mary Travis and by Nettie Wells. Do you seriously think a jury will not see the truth of her statement?"

the prosecutor stood watching Inez for a moment, then looked down at his papers.

"No your honor."

"Also, am I right to say that you are also yourself counting on Ms. Roscillos' testimony in your trial against Marshal Yates and Bob Spikes, once the latter is apprehended?"

"Yes."

"So, she speaks the truth one day and lies the next, is that it?"

Staines didn't even bother to reply. The judge shook his head.

"Well, then, I guess it is a lucky thing that the trials will be simultaneous, generally preventing the jury from knowing how two-faced the prosecutor's office is being."

"Yes, your honor," Staines replied perfunctorily. The judge watched him a moment, then clicked his tongue and looked back down at the papers in front of him.

"Unfortunately," the judge said, "I can not be the final word on what a jury would say. However, Mr. Staines, may I recommend that your office spend some more time deciding whether they really want to continue with this case against Mr. Tanner? I for one believe it will be a colossal waste of time and money on your part."

The prosecutor sighed, and nodded. "Yes, your honor."

"Good. You may step down Ms. Roscillos." The judge nodded at Inez, and she smiled slightly at him before moving to return to her seat. The judge sighed again and looked at Josiah and Vin as soon as she was seated.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Sanchez, although I would very much like to say your new evidence is undeniable, there is still some questions that can only be determined by a jury. This case is held over for trial." And he rang out the gavel.

Vin's shoulder's slumped. Josiah frowned. Inez buried her head in her hands again, and Buck patter her back. Chris just leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

The prosecutor watched the small group with tired eyes, then shook his head. Reaching over he held his hand out to Josiah. The lawyer looked at it a moment before taking it.

"Nice job, Russell," the lawyer said quietly.

Staines shook his head. "I'll see what I can do about getting the office to back off, Josiah," he promised, just as quietly. "The judge is right. There is no point in this."

Josiah's smile returned in full force.

Part Twenty Three: Equitable Action

"They dropped the case?" Ezra was grinning as Josiah wheeled his chair down the corridor of the 4C building. Vin was scratching at his head and nodding.

"They called this morning," Josiah answered for the still amazed Vin. "With Inez's testimony and the fact that Bob Spikes was captured last night, they don't need Vin anymore."

"Spikes was captured?" Ezra leaned his head back to look up at Josiah. The older lawyer chuckled.

"Cried like a baby, so they say," Buck said, holding open the doors of the elevator. "Spilled his guts about Yates and Eli Joe like a stuck pig. He clammed up about Royal, though. Guess he's not as dumb as he looks. Still, I wouldn't warrant him lasting long when they finally send him down the river."

"Wow," Ezra shook his head as Josiah wheeled him into the box. Vin tipped his fingers at them, then walked away with Chris to go take the stairs.

"Yeah, pretty amazing," Buck agreed.

"No, I was talking about your ability to use a cliché in almost every sentence. Do you practice that? Or did you just watch too many John Wayne movies as a kid?"

Buck scowled as Josiah started to laugh so hard he went red. Ezra continued to grin, and finally Buck had to join in. Nothing kept the gregarious cowboy upset for very long.

"So," Ezra said as the elevator ground to a halt on the fifth floor, "What about Royal and Eli Joe? Is anything going to happen about them?"

Josiah shook his head as Buck answered, the cowboy holding the elevator doors again.

"Nah, Royal's still out there. He'll probably lay low for a while, but, as far as anyone knows, he's still clean. At least, although he's pissed off at us, I don't think he's worried we'll do him any harm now. Should leave Vin and us alone. As for Eli Joe, my guess is he took off as soon as he did his part in murdering Stephen Travis. He's probably hiding out someplace way out there, like Idaho, Alabama or Worcester, Mass. Price on him will go up, though."

Ezra's brow creased as Josiah pushed him towards the second set of elevators to go up to the seventh floor.

"Worcester, Mass?"

"Yeah. That's where crazy people live," Buck informed him seriously. "Why do you think Freud and Jung spent so much time there? And don't get me started on those other places...."

Ezra was blinking furiously now, "Freud and Jung? How do you...."

"Son, some things are best left unexplored," Josiah interrupted sagely. At that moment, the elevator to the seventh floor opened and they got on. Ezra did his best to stifle his curiosity.

Moments later they were rolling down the marble hallway, and Ezra's nose crinkled at the smell of turpentine and paint. The walls were still stained by smoke, but someone, probably the building's owner, had begun to paint them over. There were paint cans against the wall.

The lawyer's hackles began to rise as they neared the office, and he tried to hide his fear of remembering his last moments here. Clearly he did not do as good a job as he thought he did, as Josiah laid a hand on his shoulder and Buck had gotten more serious.

Shutting his eyes, he let Josiah push the chair through the door before he opened his eyes.

JD looked up from where he'd been shoveling ash into a can. Vin and Chris were standing and looking around, as if trying to determine where to begin.

"My God," Ezra breathed, his eyes wide, taking in the black. "It's really...it's really destroyed."

"We'll rebuild, Ezra," Josiah said confidently. "It'll take time, but...."

"With what?" Ezra said sharply. "We were already low on funds, Josiah. We haven't the money to repair this place, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if the landlord took this opportunity to...."

"He won't," said a new voice from the door. It was an older voice, and Ezra cringed upon hearing it.

Great, the young lawyer thought, just when you think it can't get worse.

"Judge Travis," Chris greeted, walking over and sticking out a hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Mr. Larabee," Travis replied, pushing up the glasses on his face and taking the hand, "and to see you as well, Josiah."

"Orrin," Josiah had a hand on Ezra's shoulder. The young lawyer shook it off and got to his feet. He was weak, but he wasn't an invalid. The judge raised an eyebrow.

"Please, Mr. Standish, no need to stand on my account."

"All rise," Ezra said quietly, "it seems wrong to break the tradition."

The judge pursed his lips, then started to chuckle. "Have it your way, Mr. Standish. Now, where is Mr. Tanner?"

Vin was standing next to Buck, his face unreadable at meeting Stephen Travis's father for the first time. As the judge mentioned his name, he stepped forward, his mouth opening, ready to apologize for his part in Travis's son's death.

"Judge Travis, I'm....."

"Ah, Mr. Tanner, it is good to finally meet you," the judge said, his smile fading to a steady gaze. "I understand that you are something of a hero?"

Vin's eyebrows shot up. That was not what he was expecting to hear.

"What?"

"From the police reports I read on you, I saw that you not only intervened in saving Josiah's life a few weeks back, but that you rescued Mr. Standish from the fire that ruined this office." He looked around the black walls, then at Ezra, who looked a bit surprised at the news (no one had told him that), and then back to Vin. The former bounty hunter was still looking puzzled.

"Mr. Tanner," the judge stepped forward, "I came because I wanted to tell you that I know you had no part in the death of my son. I paid your bail for that reason. I am also," he looked around at the others, "thankful to both you and to the men you hired for finding out who did kill him. I am extremely grateful that both Marshal Yates and Bob Spikes have been brought to justice. I admit, I would have wished for my son's sake that Guy Royal had joined them, but that will come someday, I am certain."

Vin swallowed then smiled, "I...uh....thank you....Judge Travis."

Travis shook his head, "Thank you, Mr. Tanner."

Vin continued to smile and shook his head, backing up to stand next to Buck again.

"Judge Travis?" Ezra was leaning on Josiah a little now, but still on his feet. The judge looked over at him.

"For Heaven's sake, boy, sit down before your partner has to catch you again," Travis said sternly. Ezra's face went red, and he simply stood up straighter, taking all his weight off of Josiah.

"Judge Travis, I was merely going to inquire as to what you meant when you arrived. You intimated that our landlord would not...."

"That is because he won't. Your landlord, Herbert Conklin, is an old friend of mine. I convinced him that it was in his best interests to let you stay." He gave a wry smile, indicating that the idea that Conklin was an "old friend" meant that he was as much a friend as Ezra was.

Ezra sighed, "Oh. Well then, thank you."

"Oh no, on the contrary," the judge wandered further into the room and kicked at some of the ash. "I merely consider it to be only part of the fee I owe."

Josiah frowned, "fee?"

"Certainly. Upon Mr. Tanner's bail being returned to me, I have decided to use that money to pay for your services." The judge held up a hand as both Vin and Josiah appeared about to object, "Now, this does not mean that I ever believed myself to have been your client, sirs, but as an interested third party, I am willing to pay on Mr. Tanner's behalf. Now, let's see...." He reached into his pocket for his wallet, at which point Vin stepped forward again.

"Please, Judge Travis, I wish you wouldn't...."

"Now, now, Vin," Ezra finally chose to sit back down, and he smiled up at the former bounty hunter, "If the judge wishes to do this, I don't see a need to dissuade him." He smiled broadly, and for the first time, Vin noticed the man had a gold tooth. Vin couldn't resist chuckling, the snake-oil salesman he had first met was back. Luckily, the judge didn't seem to notice.

"I believe that a fair price would be twenty thousand, plus expenses," the judge said. "Now, between the price of the medical fees, the damage to your office and the price for the services of the Larabee Agency, I would assume that the total would reach closer to forty thousand." He put the checkbook down and scribbled the amount onto a check. Ripping it off, he handed it over to Josiah. The older lawyer stared at it a moment, before looking up with a broad smile, almost wide enough to challenge Ezra's earlier one.

"Thank you, sir," Josiah said. The judge shrugged.

"Put it to good use," the judge replied, "and you may find there will be more work coming your way as well. I plan to put a good word in for you." The judge tipped his hat at them, and looked at Ezra. "Including you, Mr. Standish. Believe it or not, though what you did to come before me those few years ago was reprehensible, I did understand why you did it. I am the only reason you held onto your license sir. Today I am glad I did."

Ezra just stared, his mouth slightly open.

"Well, gentlemen," the judge turned and shook both Vin and Chris's hand again, "Thank you again, and good luck." Tipping his hat again, he turned and ghosted back out the door.

Josiah looked down at the check in his hand and started laughing. JD walked over and took it from him.

"I'll take this down to the bank," the kid smiled, heading towards the door. "We'll be needing it for all the construction we're going to do."

"Don't forget our fee," Buck replied, following him. "I'd best make sure you do that right."

"Buck, JD, wait," Chris said, causing the men to pause in the door. Buck raised an eyebrow, and, when Chris nodded, the cowboy smiled. Draping an arm across JD's shoulder, he forced the boy to wait with him in the doorway.

Chris turned to Vin, "I was wondering, Tanner, what you were planning to do now?"

Vin frowned, looking at Buck and JD then back at Chris. "I, uh, well, I guess I hadn't really thought about it."

"You going back to bounty hunting?" Buck asked, raising his chin.

Vin shook his head, "Are you kidding? No. I've had enough of that life. I don't know...maybe I'll head back to Texas, find out what I'm qualified for and try to get some sort of job...."

"What exactly are you qualified for?" Buck needled, "And why go back to Texas? You got people waiting for you there or something?"

Vin frowned more deeply, not liking the man's tone. "You trying to say something there, Buck?"

"What he's trying to say, Vin, is that you seem pretty qualified for what we do," Chris said, watching Vin carefully.

"What you do?"

"We were wondering how you'd feel about joining us? Getting your PI license?"

Vin's frown fell instantly, and he stared at Chris like the man had just offered him a piece of a goldmine.

"Are you serious?"

"We talked it over with Nathan at the hospital yesterday, and he loved the idea." Buck said. "Of course, he was in a pretty good mood since we told Mr. Jackson that we submitted his name to get his license himself. By the end of the week, we'll be without an apprentice. You want to take his place?"

Vin laughed, shaking his head, "Well...what does it pay?"

Chris smiled, "I don't know. What do you think, Buck, dollar a day sound fair?"

Buck chuckled and Vin stepped forward with his hand out, "Sounds more than generous, Larabee. I'll take it."

Chris laughed and took Vin's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Well all right!" Buck said, slapping JD on the back. The kid staggered forward a little, and turned around to hit Buck on the arm.

Vin, meanwhile, moved to shake Buck and JD's hands, then turning to face Ezra and Josiah. "Well, looks like you guys are never going to be rid of me."

"Guess not," Josiah grinned, reaching out to shake the new apprentice's hand. At the same moment, Ezra held up a finger and looked askance at the others.

"Wait, wait, I have a question," the lawyer said, causing them all to look at him. "If Mr. Tanner is staying.... Where exactly will he be living?"

Vin just grinned, and Ezra groaned.

Outside, a few people looked up as the sounds of howling laughter drifted down from the open windows on the seventh floor of the Four Corners building. Shaking their heads, they continued on their way down 42nd street as the sounds of New York crowded in to absorb it all.

Just another story in a city full of them.

The End
Companion story: Out of Order