"Nothing. Well, other than I'm trying to get drunk. Why?"

He pulled her up close. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

"For God's sake! I've been stuck in a group discussing weddings and honeymoons for hours. It would drive the freakin' Pope to drink. If I'd had my weapon with me, I may have shot someone."

He laughed. "Aren't you exaggerating just a bit? Besides, I thought the wedding was perfect. I hope ours goes as smoothly." He led her by the arm back to the wedding party. "I think it was a great idea to have it at the hotel. Everything's right here. Your 110*guests just grab an elevator to their room. You don't have to worry about partying too much and then driving." He looked at her. "I like it."

She stared at him. "You're not serious?"

"Why not?"

"Well, for one, your mother will kill you."

"It's our wedding, not hers."

"Since when?" She finished the last of her drink, feeling a slight buzz from the double shot. Paul was a good man. She just might be able to make it through the night.

He pulled her close again. "Please don't embarrass me."

"You mean tonight? Or at our wedding?"

He smiled. "Both."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not drunk, Michael. This is my first drink. I was just escaping...all this," she said, waving her hands at his friends.

"They're really fun people, Leslie. Give them a chance. I think you'll like them."

She took a deep breath. "Sure, Michael. I'm sorry. I'll try."

But as she pushed the food around on her plate, she was convinced she would never be friends with these people. Not that they didn't try. It was her. She simply wasn't interested. And after another hour of trying to fake conversations with strangers, she escaped again. But not to the hotel bar this time.

She found herself on the third floor where the outdoor patio bar overlooked the pool.

It was still crowded on this Saturday night, despite the late hour. She walked to the edge, leaning over the railing, looking down at the pool then up into the night sky, blocking out the chatter around her. She closed her eyes for a moment, finally letting in thoughts of the one person she'd been trying to keep at bay all weekend.

Casey.

Trying to keep her away, yes, but she'd been there all along. She pulled out her cell, looking at the time. After eleven. Was she still awake? She was out with Tori and Sam, out on their boat. Could she dare call? If they were all three awake, how would she ever explain it?

She closed her phone. Don't do anything stupid.

But as she stared overhead, seeing the faint twinkling of stars above the city, she opened her phone again, her thumb punching through the numbers, stopping when Casey's number came up.

111.*She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then pushed the call button. She only wanted to hear her voice.

The air, while warm, still had a freshness about it. Maybe it was simply being on the water, but it lacked the stifling effect it had in the city.

Casey tilted her head up, watching the stars. She loved it out here. The gentle rocking of the boat, the light breeze over the water, the sounds of the frogs and insects, the sounds of night.

It had become a ritual. Ever since she'd been joining Tori and Sam, she'd made it a point to stay up on deck after they went to bed. Privacy. She didn't want to get into theirs. So, as was her habit, after they went to bed, she pulled out the wine and brought it on deck with her. Some nights, she'd sit only for an hour. Other times, she'd still be out in the early morning light. Just sitting. Thinking.

Like now. Thinking.

She smiled. Or trying not to think.

But her heart skipped a beat when her cell phone vibrated against her leg. She pulled it out of her pocket, squinting in the moonlight to read the name.

Leslie. Damn.

"Casey," she answered quietly.

"It's me."

Casey held the phone tightly. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah." A pause. "Are you alone?"

"Uh-huh. Are you?"

"If I don't count the thirty or so people on the patio, yeah."

Casey grinned, looking out over the water. "Okay, so let's don't count them."

There was only a beat of silence, then she heard the quiet sigh. "I miss you."

She gripped the phone tighter. "I...I miss you too."

Again, a sigh. "I shouldn't have called. I just needed to hear your voice."

"It's okay," Casey whispered. Christ, she didn't know if it was okay or not. She didn't know anything anymore.

112.*"Is it, Casey? Is it okay really?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She heard a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, I was afraid that would be your answer." She cleared her throat. "I should go."

Casey stared up at the stars again. Yes, go. Back to Michael. "Enjoy the rest of your weekend," she managed.

"See you Monday."

And so she sat, phone still held lightly in her hand, listening as the sounds of the night faded away and all she heard was the steady beating of her heart. And the quiet words that echoed in her brain. I miss you.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

When Casey walked into the squad room, she was determined to make everything as normal as possible. She would forget the phone call Saturday night. She would forget the conversation she'd had with Sam. And she would forget how her heart skipped a beat at just the sight of Leslie Tucker. Because-as she'd finally convinced herself last night-Leslie was off limits. An engagement ring tended to do that. So she forced a smile to her face as she walked in, holding up the two bags in her hands. One with coffee, one with pastries.

"Thanks, O'Connor. I was hoping you'd bring coffee," John said, flashing her a smile.

"You're the best."

"Uh-huh." She put the cappuccino on Tori's desk, noting the empty chair. "Where's Hunter?"

"She's not in yet," Leslie said, reaching for the cup Casey handed her. "Thanks. I needed this."

And just like that, just one glance, and her resolve crumbled. Because the look in Leslie's eyes was haunted, as haunted as her own had been that morning. She took the lid off her coffee, sipping it, trying to convince herself that Leslie Tucker was her partner, nothing more, nothing less. A late night phone call during a weak moment meant nothing. At least, that's what she told herself. But when Leslie turned those soft brown eyes on her, she was no longer sure.

I miss you.

Christ! She put her coffee cup down and leaned closer. "What's wrong, Les?" she asked quietly, unable to stop herself. She saw Leslie glance at John, then back at her.

"Nothing, O'Connor. Everything is fine."

"Okay." The fake smile Leslie gave her failed to convince her, but obviously Leslie didn't want to talk. Fine. It was probably safer that way anyway.

113.*She'd just taken a bite from her pastry when her phone rang. "O'Connor," she said with a mouth full.

"It's me. Grab the team. We've got a homicide. I don't know if she's ours or not."

Casey stood, snapping her fingers at Sikes and Tucker. "Where?"

"Cascades."

"Cascades? That's where we picked up John."

"I know. I'll meet you there. And, O'Connor, bring my cappuccino." She slipped her phone back into the clip on her belt and grabbed her coffee. "Another woman.

Cascades." She pointed at Tori's coffee. "Sikes, bring that for her, will you?" She looked around. "Where the hell's Malone?"

"He's out this morning. Doctor," Sikes reminded her.

"Which is why Tori got the call," she murmured, hurrying out the door with the others.

She and Leslie automatically went to her truck, then stopped, looking at John. While it was a large truck with extra cab space behind the seats, no way he could fit back there. They all looked at each other, waiting.

"Look. I'll take my own. It'll just be easier," he said. "Meet you there."

As she got inside, she wondered why they just didn't all ride in John's car, but he was already pulling away. Fine. They could do this. They were adults.

"I'm sorry," Leslie said unexpectedly.

Casey started the truck and backed out. "For what?"

"For earlier. For calling you the other night. For-"

"You don't have to apologize. Forget it."

"Forget it? Forget what, Casey? What should I forget?"

Casey turned, meeting her eyes. "Everything. Let's just forget everything."

She heard rather than saw the smile. A smile, but a sad smile. "How is it we manage to talk about it without really talking about it, Casey?"

"Because it is very scary, that's why."

"Are we afraid to say it out loud?"

114.*"Apparently." She sped up, just missing the light on Gaston. She took a deep breath.

"So, how was your weekend?"

"Is that your not so subtle way of changing the subject?"

"Yes." She felt Leslie turn away from her and she wanted to apologize for being so abrupt. But she didn't.

"Okay. We won't say it out loud then. We'll change the subject, O'Connor." She shrugged. "Wonderful weekend."

"Good."

"Yeah. Good."

Casey turned sharply, practically tossing Leslie against the door as she pulled into the Cascades parking lot. Three units, a fire truck, an ambulance and the ME's van.

Plenty to attract the attention of the neighbors. She got out without waiting for Leslie, needing to escape her presence, if only for a few moments.

But it was short-lived. As they rounded the corner, she felt Leslie's hand on her arm, stopping her.

"Look. It's the same apartment."

Casey stopped. "You're right. Goddamn," she whispered.

"Hey, guys, over here," Tori called. "Apartment one thirty-four. First floor, just like the others."

"What was her name?" Leslie asked.

"Rhonda Lampton," she said.

"Hampton," Sikes corrected her.

"Right. Hampton. Rhonda Hampton. Age twenty-four."