Frank's phone was ringing. As usual, he snapped awake quickly, fingers falling directly onto the shiny black receiver. "McCann." Blinking the last of the nap from his eyes, he flipped the receiver right side up.

"Frank. It's Louis."

"Yeah, yeah. What's up?" But he was already sliding his shoes on.

"We got a case. Down here at the Clifton Hotel."

"Homicide?" The phone's spiral cord stretched across his small living room as he reached for his suit jacket.

Louis Kerr paused. "Well...yes and no. We're uh - piecin' it togethah."

"I see." The cord stretched to the low breakfast bar where Frank retrieved his watch. It was just past midnight. "I'm on my way." He rebuttoned his cuffs before he hung up. Grabbed his tan trench and dark fedora on the way out the front door. Grimaced at the light Boston snow beginning to fall.

It was a short drive into downtown from his quiet suburban neighborhood. Mainly because downtown was beginning to stretch into the suburbs. The city was spreading faster than a cheap hooker. He wasn't certain he cared for it. It threatened his peaceful, isolated life.

It wasn't that he didn't love his job. After all, he'd chosen this particular afterlife. And there'd been limitless options. The black-clad angel had been very clear in that fact. "You lived a good, kind, and...devoted life, Frank." Her soft lilting voice lulled him strangely, making death seem...not so sudden and and indeed - definite. "You deserve to be spoiled for choice. So. What shall it be? The safari adventures you dreamt of as a child? Fly fishing, and that quaint mountain cabin you were saving for? Wine, women and song?" She'd shrugged, brushing his shoulder with pale fingers as she circled him. "There's no rush. Take your time and -"

"Homicide detective," he'd blurted. He hadn't needed time. If it meant a do-over, he was damn well going to do what he'd always secretly wanted.

And the angel hadn't seemed terribly surprised. Her cloudy eye seemed to sum him up in a glance. "Determined to be a hero, aren't you?" A dark chuckle. "Very well."

She was right, though. He turned down Main smiling wryly. He had always wanted to be a hero. But what the hell was wrong with that? He'd failed in that last life, anyway. The wry smile turned to a scowl. He tried not to think about that, though. And his chosen profession kept him just busy enough to distract.

He parked directly beneath the welcome awning of the Clifton, seeing a cluster of Boston PD cars there. He wove through a cluster of press agents buzzing like flies on shit - the usual vultures waiting for carrion. There were also clusters of patrons, gaping or sobbing. He could hear their disbelief echoing - their shock sticking like the snow to the sidewalk. He flashed his badge at the cop standing beside the doorman and was waved inside.

The Clifton was a relatively new hotel. Fancy. Big at 32 stories. A glass encased, gilded elevator took him up to the 21st floor. He stared out at the city as he rose, snuffed out his cigarette in the sandy ashtray beside the ficas. A ding sounded, and he turned to the doors. They parted to reveal the barely contained chaos that comprised a new homicide investigation.

He stepped past cops and junior detectives, nodding and garnering nods in return. As a captain, he was respected by these men, and that was a two way street. Pretty damn good fellas, really...

The door to room 2121 was wide open. A rookie was beginning to tie off police tape. The photography - Quigley - was snapping away inside. Frank slipped under the plastic yellow barrier. "Alright. What's the story?"

Kerr turned. "Complicated."

"Nothin' new there." Frank looked down at the chalk outline, and the male body bleeding inside it. "No rhyme or reason to those bullet holes in him."

"Lookin' like self defense." Kerr used his own hat in hand to gesture to the broken out window - curtains billowing and darkening with snowfall. "First shot missed. Took out the window. But the last five shots...well. You see."

"Suspects?"

"Not even a suspect. Verified. Confession's already in. We're just getting the details down. Not to mention one suspect still at large."

"Wait." Frank held up his hands. "I'm confused."

"Nutshell?" Kerr offered. At Frank's nod, he began. "Bout 10 pm the doorman claims two gents entered the lobby with a dame. She was passed out. The tallest fella was carryin' her. Claimed she was his drunk wife. They had a room already. This one. But the desk clerk from earlier don't recall them checking in with a lady at all. Looks like they snatched her from a local club where she's a pretty hot ticket singah. We verified. She disappeared before her second set. They probly dosed her soda. We dunno yet. She was not drinking alcohol. According to her. Murphy's. You know the joint?"

"Yeah. Nice joint."

"Great top shelf." Kerr agreed succinctly before continuing. "Anywho. She comes to with a sweaty s.o.b. climbin' her like set of monkey bars. She starts a yellin' and strugglin'. Fightin' like a hell cat from the looks of it. The other fella - the missing suspect - pulls a gun and holds it on the lady, tells her she's gonna be their good time basically. Buuut...I reckon she disagreed. She flat out charged the guy. They struggled over the gun. It went off." Kerr pointed up. "Into the ceiling there. Looks like that's what triggered the first calls to the station. Fella what lost the gun panicked and took off. Lady claims the othah one - tha dead one - pulled a switchblade." Another hand hat gesture. "That knife over there under the coffee table. She was backin' toward the door and he ran at her. Boom. She shot. Unloaded. Took out the window. Took out him. Hotel security showed up just in time to see her lose it. And Boston PD was right after that."

"Any witnesses to suspect number two?"

"A few." Kerr flipped open a little notebook. "He nearly knocked over an elderly couple visiting from Ohio. Room 2017. Desk clerks saw him rip through the lobby. Doorman got a good look at him as he took off west on 17th."

"ID on the dead guy?"

"Wenton Bridey. Street name was Knives, appropriately. He's in the system already. Assault and battery. Armed robbery. Fraud. He came outta the pen a month ago after six years. We figure it shouldn't be too hard to track down his accomplice with what we got now."

"Mm." Frank grunted. He didn't like having fugitives at large. Especially this close to holidays. And especially ones this violent. "Any othah evidence?"

"Um." Louis rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "We uh - we recovered the ladies uh...dainties. In the bedroom. Torn. There's a men's hat. Pack of smokes. Match book might be some good. Looks like it's from a club called the Tiki Hut. Evah heard of it?"

Frank shook his head, looking around the wrecked room. "Nah. Must be an out of town joint. Lou."

"Yeah?"

"Where's the dame?"

Louis cocked his head. "Hallway. We had her waitin' til you got here."

"Right." Frank turned. "Bag the stiff. Send him to county. Write me up yar report and I'll look at it tomorrah. I'm gonna chat with our victim."

"Frank?"

"What?"

"She's uh..."

"She's what?"

"She's pretty busted up."

"Course she is." Frank shrugged, heading out the door.

"Emphasis on the pretty!" Lou called after him.

In the hall he looked left and right. All he saw was cops, and now a stretcher coming up with a big black bag on top. He wouldn't have even noticed her if he hadn't looked down. There, sat on the floor against the wall. Like an injured crane. A long leg stretched, the stocking ripped. Dark velvet heel turned sideways. Her head was against the wall, turned away. Blonde. His weakness. The hair pressed down a bit and wet from snow or struggle but curly. She was nearly concealed by the shadow engulfing the end of the hall, as if hiding herself. And maybe she was.

He approached quietly. She wore a blue velvet dress, modest, but huggy. Closer to her, he could see a tear on the right shoulder. She'd tucked the material under a bra strap to hold it up. Frank winced. She was shivering. A hundred damn cops around in coats and not one of 'em had given her one or just grabbed a blanket. Fuckin' kids. "Miss." He crouched, already removing his trench. "Here. Take this."

"Oh!" She startled a bit when he began to cover her, was a little slow in accepting the coat, eyes downcast. "Thank you." Her voice was raspy. They probably hadn't given her any water, either.

"Are ya hurt?" He asked. Dumb question.

"No." She lied.

"I'm gonna ask ya a few questions. Kay? I'm the lead detective on this case. Name's Frank."

She'd managed to tie the coat neatly. It was only a little big. He needed her to get it together, to face him and give as good a statement as she could. He tilted her chin up, and gasped. "Jesus Christ!" She gaped in return, recognition wordless. "Jude?" His touch on her chin became a firm hold. "Sistah Jude?"

"Oh, God!" She choked. Her brown eyes filled with tears. "Frank?" He nodded. Lost for words. "Frank!" And suddenly, he was in her arms and his arms were full of her as she sobbed. "Frank..."

It was the thing he avoided that tightened his throat so - the thing he regretted the most in that last half life he'd lived. That night he'd heard her screaming. He'd heard the banging. He'd known something was wrong. Sister Jude had needed him. And he'd gone - he would always go to her yes, but that night was different. That night she'd needed a hero - she'd needed a savior and...

He swallowed. Felt his throat bob against her shoulder.

If it had been just the two of them at that moment in that hallway - if Boston PD had ceased to exist - if murderers, rapists, and kidnappers had laid down in the street and simply closed their eyes to the moon - he would have told her. He would have sobbed the things he'd hidden in his psyche even after death into that impossibly golden hair. He would have whispered how only the devil could have stopped him from saving her and how it had. He might have even kissed that sharp, high cheekbone pressed to his temple and confessed how much he'd loved a nun once...

But.

"You two know each othah?"

Frank cleared his throat, loosening the ball that lodged there. He glanced up to see Kerr peering down at them. "Uh yeah. Yeah we do." Reluctantly, he extracted himself from Jude's arms. Her face deferred again. She wiped at her tears. Frank handed over his handkerchief. "You wait here just a sec, Jude. Kay? I'm gonna tie up a few loose ends then I'm gonna get ya outta here." One last shoulder rub as she nodded.

"We're rappin' up here, Captain." Kerr told him officially. "You want a cop ta take her down to the hospital? She's gonna have ta get checked out."

"I'll take her." Frank nodded toward the room where men still bustled to and fro. "You got this undah control?"

"We still need a full deposition from her, but othah than that." Louis shrugged. Shifted the toothpick in his mouth. "We're done."

"Good. I'm gonna give the scene one last sweep and take care of her. I'll see ya at the station tomorrah with her full statement."

"Right on, boss."

Room 2121 had become frigid. Frank made a few last checks, gave a few last instructions, and looked underneath a few more furnishings. In the bedroom beneath a nightstand, something shiny caught his eye. He bent and retrieved it. A clip-on earring. Gold. A woven knot. Maybe it was Jude's. He grabbed it.

The hallway was finally clearing out. Jude sat in the same place he'd left her. Trench cinched and buttoned. Legs bent awry like a broken doll. Her head rested against the embossed wallpaper and she smoked, staring straight ahead. She looked exhausted. Defeated. Sad. But somehow...

She was still beautiful.

"Ready?"

She looked up in surprise. "Where am I goin'?"

"The hospital, Jude. Just ta get ya checked out."

"Are you taking me?"

"Yep."

She smiled. Reached for his hand. "Then I'm ready."

He took her into his arm protectively, guiding her out of the hotel and into his waiting sedan. "I'm sorry ya waited cold in the hallway far so long, Jude. The fellas are young. They get distracted."

"It's okay." She sniffled. "Hey, Frank?"

"Hm?" The one advantage of the late night was the lack of traffic. And the hospital was close by, so they didn't have to get too cold.

"I don't go by Jude anymore. I mean - I'm not Jude anymore, so. I'm just Judy now."

"Just Judy, huh?" He grinned. "I like it."

He parked right beside the hospital's emergency entrance. A flash of his badge had a nurse taking them directly back to a small exam room. There was a curtain around the bed, and Frank pulled it closed. "I uh - I do have ta get a full statement from ya far the report."

"I thought I already did that," she murmured, looking down at her shoes. She seemed so small there on the end of the bed.

"I have ta get tha details." She winced. "Judy." He had to press her.

"Yeah?"

"Is there anything ya didn't mention at the scene?"

"No."

"I need ya ta be straight with me."

"Why would I lie?" There was a little fire in that glare. He liked it better than the sad downcast eyes.

"I'm not sayin' you would lie. But I need ta know if they uh..." He made an amorphous gesture.

"If they what." She leveled a raw stare at him.

"If they raped ya."

"No." She was firm.

"Judy. We found yer um - yer underwear. Torn. So -"

"He was tryin' when I came to, alright?" She snapped. "He was between my legs and his fingers were..." She shivered and cringed. "Oh, I think I might be sick."

"Here." He was quick to hand her the banana shaped bed pan. "I'm sorry, Judy."

"Ugh." She spat a little bile into the pan. There was nothing in her stomach to throw up.

Frank moved to stand beside her, rubbing her back. "Just get it all over with. Start at the last thing you remembah befar they took ya."

Cradling the bedpan in her lap, she took a deep breath. "I'd finished my first set at Murphy's. At the bar, they tried ta chat me up and I blew 'em off. I grabbed a soda and headed backstage to freshen up. When I left my dressing room, the tall one was standing in the hall. He tried again, and I blew him off again. I was walkin' past him when I guess the othah one grabbed me from behind. He pressed a cloth over my face. I couldn't scream. I guess it had something' on it. Smelled chemical. I don't remembah how they got me out, but they musta carried me out the back. I don't know if I was in a car or what... I just remembah waking up ta..."

"Right." Frank waved that part off. "Were they both in tha room?"

"I think so?" She massaged her temples. "It happened so fast. I was tryin' ta think fast. It was the tall one on top of me. He stood up and started ta take off his pants. And I just kicked him in tha stomach as hard as I could. I guess the heel got him good, cuz he doubled ovah and I kicked the side of his head. He fell ovah. I was stumblin' off the bed, couldn't find the door. The othah guy just kind of popped up in front of me. He shoved a gun in my face. Told me ta get back ta the bed. I didn't even think. Just grabbed. We were fightin' ovah the gun. I think it went off. He let go far some reason. Maybe it scared him. He took off runnin' and I followed him, but I fell. I felt so dizzy. It took me a second to get up. Think I laid on the table far a second. I couldn't let go of that gun. And I felt sick ta my stomach. But I stood up. Kept steadyin' myself on the furniture. Then I heard a flickin' noise behind me. It was the fuckah I'd kicked off the bed. He had a knife. He was comin' toward me. Frank, I swear. I wouldna shot anybody far no reason. I couldna done that!"

"Shhh." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Judy. Look at me." She did. He couldn't stand to see a woman cry, this one in particular. "I can't imagine what ya went through in that room. And quite frankly, I don't care. Because I know yer a tough, smart woman, and I wouldn't expect ya ta give in ta somethin' like that without a fight. I'm proud ya defended yarself. I ain't here ta accuse you of murdah. I'm here ta prove you innocent, and find the fuck that got away befar he does this to anothah woman. Ya hear?"

She cried harder. Not his intention. "I didn't even aim. I just started shooting. I think I even closed my eyes! I didn't even stop. The gun just started clicking. I think someone was beating at the door. I heard a man's voice say they were callin' the cops. There was a loud thud. When I opened my eyes..." She shrugged helplessly. "He was layin' on the floor."

"What'd ya do with the gun?" It was already bagged and on its way to evidence, he knew.

"I dropped it. The barrel was hot. I just let it fall. I sat on the couch and just waited. I knew the police were coming. Security came in first. They had a key. I couldn't even talk to 'em. They treated me like a murderah."

Frank shook his head. "Nobody thinks yer a murderah, Judy. We all -"

The curtain suddenly slid open, hushing the conversation inside. "Hello." A doctor slipped in, followed by a fey blonde nurse. "I'm Dr. Barnwell. This is Shannon."

"Doc." Frank shook the man's hand. "Detective McCann. This here is Judy."

"Judy." The physician's attention shifted immediately to the patient. "Shannon is here to help me get you checked out this evening. I know you've been through quite a trauma. I promise you this will be quick and painless. Detective? Would you mind waiting outside?"

"Of course." He squeezed her hand. "I'll be waitin' fer ya." She nodded, a look of dread creeping onto her lovely features.

Leaving her side was hard. He imagined what she would go through in there. The embarrassment of that exam after he'd already made her rehash the whole attack. He sat in a hard waiting room chair and held his hat. Picked at a pick on his tie. Rubbed a scuff on his shoe. Watched the clock tick. At 2:17 am the doctor emerged. Frank stood immediately.

"Detective. I assume you need a copy of this?" He handed over a folded envelope.

"Thanks." Frank slipped the parcel into his inner jacket pocket. "She um...she okay?"

"No signs of rape. Which is excellent. Some minor internal abrasions. Bruising on her thighs and chest. A sprained finger. Some swelling in her right wrist. All signs of struggle. But nothing requiring serious treatment. I'm sending her with a few pills to help her sleep if she needs it. For now, though, I prescribe a full belly and a nice, hot bath. And if she has a friend or family member...I wouldn't recommend leaving her alone tonight."

Frank loosed the breath he'd been holding. "Right. Thanks, doc." He hadn't asked after Jude's living situation. "I'll make sure she's taken care of."

The swinging doors opened behind the doctor and Jude appeared with Shannon. She was dressed in Frank's coat, and other than the flush on her features he wouldn't suspect anything had happened to her. She carried a small bag that rattled when she walked. Shannon whispered something to her and the women shared a brief hug.

"Judy." Dr. Barnwell shook her hand. "I wish you the best, and hope to never see you under these circumstances again."

"Me, too." Back under Frank's protective arm her shoulders relaxed. They left the hospital briskly, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

He didn't speak until they were in the car again. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Glad that's ovah."

"Ya got somebody ta stay with ya tanight, Judy?"

"I can't go home. I'm stayin' in that women's hostel on Essex. After 1 am, the dragon lady won't let anybody in. If you don't mind swingin' by Murphy's so I can grab my purse and let Tom know what happened, I'd appreciate it. Then I can get a motel room or somethin'."

"The hell you will." Frank cranked the car. "I'll pick up yar purse and let yar boss know what's happened. But yar gonna stay with me tanight. And we're gonna stop at Ruthie's diner so I can get ya a hot dinner." She was staring at him. He noticed when he glanced out her window for traffic. "What?"

The tears she'd obviously been holding back escaped. "I'm - I'm just so glad it's you, Frank! I can't believe it, but I'm so happy to see ya! And yar bein' so good to me! I don't deserve -"

"Aaah, ah!" He cut her off, grabbing her hand. "Ya shut that shit down right now. Judy..." He shook his head. There weren't words really. Or the words just weren't ready yet. He swallowed. "Just don't talk like that."

Murphy's was closing when they arrived. A few employees inside were cleaning the bar, and saw Jude knock at the front window. It was Tom Murphy himself who rushed to open the door. "Judy!" He lifted her off the freshly swept floor. "Doll, where tha hell were ya? What happened?" He dropped her, studied her face. "Sweetheart. Ya look like hell."

Frank stood just behind Jude, not particularly liking the direction all these pet names were heading. Jude pulled at his sleeve. "Tom. This is Captain McCann with the police." The barkeep shook hands. "I'm afraid I got in a bit of a scrape earlier. Some assholes snagged me out the back before my second set."

"I knew ya wouldn't abandon us, Judy." Tom shook his head in disbelief. "Fuckin' crazy. Judy, goddamn. Did they hurt ya?"

She shook her head. "Not real bad. Oh, Tom. I - I promise I'll tell ya everything latah. I just wanna grab my bag and fall inta bed fer a week. I'm sorry."

The bearded ginger hugged her again. "Stop apologizin', Judy. Take yer time. You know here when yer ready ta come back." Jude headed to the back to collect her purse and Tom patted Frank on the back. "Thanks fer takin' care of our Judy, Cap'n. She's a treasure."

"No problem."

"Can I get ya drink? On the house."

"Nah, thanks." Frank rubbed at his neck. Exhaustion was creeping up on him, too.

Tom tisked, back to wiping down his bar. "Damndest thing. Why didn't she have her knife on her?"

"Who?" The detective in Frank cocked his head. "Judy?"

"Yeah." Tom began stacking glasses. "I got her a nice blade a while back. She always has a little trouble with the drunk fellas. You know. A lookah like that. I told her ta keep that thing on her at all times."

"Huh." Frank shook his head. "Maybe she fergot it."

"I'll have ta give her a nice solid remindah, then. Judy!" She'd reappeared with a black patent purse. "How many times do I have ta tell ya ta keep that damn blade on ya?"

The blonde blushed, ducking against Frank's side again. "I know, I know, Tom. I just..." She shrugged. "I just wasn't thinkin' I guess."

"Call me!" The bartender yelled after them as they exited the bar.

It was nearly four am when they parked in front of Ruthie's Diner. A soft ambient glow lit the street from within the near empty establishment. But no one was fooled. Ruthie's was typically a hive of activity without an empty table in sight. "Wait here." Frank said. "It's gettin' colder out there. What can I get ya?"

Jude was extracting her wallet. "I'll have the chicken melt. With cream of wheat and hash browns."

"That sounds good. What kinda jelly?" He pressed her wallet back into her purse.

"Frank -"

"What kinda jelly?"

She smiled, resigned. "Blackberry."

"Thank God." He opened the car door. "There shouldn't be any othah kinda jelly."

The cook was quick tonight. Soon, Frank was securing paper bags in the back seat, and the car filled with a mouth-watering fragrance. On the road out of downtown, he turned to Jude. "Now listen. I don't want any argument over this when we get ta my place. Yer takin' the bed, ya hear? My couch is comfy and I sleep there all the time. So no fuss. Right?"

She was biting her lips. "Right."

"Good."

Frank's furnace had the place nice and cozy. He was glad. He flipped on the lights, pointing to give his tour. The little craftsman didn't require much more than that. Jude disappeared into the bathroom while he set their meal up at the formica dining table.

He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he took the first bite of his cheesesteak. And Jude ate like a woman who hadn't seen a meal in days.

"Tom seems like a nice fella." An innocent observation.

Jude nodded. "He's alright. I mean - far a guy who owns a bar ya know. Typical."

"Nah. I don't know." Frank poured her some more tea. "Tell me."

"I mean he gets around. Popular with the ladies."

"Ah." He chewed. "I see."

"And no, before ya ask, I was not one of his conquests."

Frank held up his hands. "Yar business, not mine." But he grinned.

"Frank?"

"What?"

"D'ya mind if I use yar shower?"

"Course not." Something occurred to him. "Hell. I don't reckon ya got anything ta wear, do ya?"

She shook her head, slightly embarrassed. "Hold on. I'm gonna lay a couple things out on the bed for ya might work. You just finish eating."

He floundered a bit. Scratched his head in the small bedroom. Jude was easily his height, but slimmer. He had a long pajama shirt that would work fine, but the pants might be a bit big. He also happened to know that her underwear was torn, in an evidence bag back at police headquarters. But there wasn't much he could do about that other than...not think about it. He put some fresh towels and flannels in the bathroom. When he returned to the kitchen, Jude was cleaning up their mess. "Hey." He took over the few dishes in the sink. "I got this. Go get you a bath."

"Thanks, Frank."

He listened to the bath water running. Heard the light splashes as she stripped out of his own clothes of the day. Normally, he slept in just his boxers, but with a lady in the house, he donned a tee shirt and pajama pants. He pulled a pillow from the bed along with the extra quilt. It was true he often fell asleep on his couch, but usually that meant waking up with a stiff neck and cracking back. And tomorrow would be hard enough with a fugitive on the loose. He set up a neat bed and turned on the television for a low background noise. HIs bedroom door was closed, but he heard the bathroom door open. He focused on the black and white sitcom on the television.

"Frank?"

Apparently, the pants didn't fit. She stood in the open bedroom door bare legged and he silently prayed for strength. "Okay, Judy?"

She pushed loose, wet curls behind one ear. "I think...no, it's fine. Silly." She started to turn.

"Judy." The back of her legs was as pretty as the front. "What's the mattah?"

A shadow muted what might have been shyness on her face. "I'm scared."

"Ya been through a lot." He stood. "I think that's normal."

"I don't wanna sleep alone."

"Oh." He looked back to his pillow on the couch. "Um..."

"I won't bite."

Nervously, he rubbed at his close cropped, steely hair. Scoffed. "I might."

"I might not mind." She tried a shaky smile. "Please?"

Shit. He grabbed his pillow and the extra quilt. Flicked off the TV as he passed it. "Go on, then." She practically skittered to the bed. "But stay on yer side." She giggled, settling into the duvet. Frank laid stiffly on the left, fluffing his pillow into submission beneath his worried head.

Jude propped on one elbow, watching him. "Thanks, Frank."

"Mph." He closed his eyes. "Get some sleep, Judy."

"Okay." He felt her shift. She switched off the lamp beside the bed. In the darkness, he opened his eyes again. Waited to adjust to the dim so he could stare at the ceiling. Jude sighed softly. He doubted he would sleep at all.

But clearly he did sleep. Because the sound of his phone ringing woke him. Bleary in the morning light, he made to rise, but his arm was dead asleep. He blinked, looking down. There was a woman curled against him, head cutting off the blood supply to his hand. "Oh." The night flooded back into memory. The phone continued ringing. He flexed his fingers and managed to untangle himself. Jude barely stirred.

The floor was chilly. "Yeah. Hello." He answered the phone tiredly.

"Cap'n. It's Kerr. Got a few things for ya ta look at down here at HQ."

"Right, right. Um..." His watch was missing. "What time is it, Lou?"

"9:20."

"Damn. I'll be in asap."

"No problem, boss."

The woman in his bed was still unresponsive. Through a fall of golden curls he could see one eye closed peacefully. So he dressed fast and quiet. He was tying a simple in the mirror when a tiny motion caught his attention. He turned. The peaceful eye was open, and watching him. For how long, he wondered. "You awake?"

She propped up groggily. "I think so."

"I gotta head to tha station. But I won't be long."

"Can ya drop me off at the hostel?" She recognized his hurry and swung out of bed.

"Yeah." A tinge of sadness. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Thanks." She slid past him into the bathroom.

His watch was on the kitchen counter. He was fastening it when she emerged, back in her torn dress. "Sorry ya gotta wear that again."

"It's fine. I'll be changed soon enough."

The snow had stopped, now a thin sheet of crisp on the ground. But at least it was dry. They crunched on the way to the car. He hated dropping her off at the women's hostel. Hated to admit he would miss her terribly, even though they'd barely spent a few hours together. He wondered if his bed would still smell like her that night.

At the front doors of Turner Womens' Hostel, she leaned across the seat and kissed his cheek soundly. "Thank you, Frank. Far everything."

"Yeah, Judy." His blush burned. "I'll be checkin' in on ya."

"Of course." She paused in the open car door. "You'll let me know what ya find out about the othah guy, right? The one that got away?"

"I will. And Judy. Stay outta Murphy's until we find him, right?"

"Right." He watched her hurry into the hostel before continuing on to the station.

"Yar late." Kerr was stirring a cup of coffee at his desk.

"I was busy."

"Busy gettin' that blonde squared away?"

"Maybe." Frank grabbed his own coffee. "What we got on our perp?"

"Here." Louis produced a file. Attached was a photo. "Based on Blondie's description, and descriptions from front desk and the bellhop, we think this is who we're lookin' far. Also a known associate of Bridey from way back. They did time togethah off and on. Worked for the mafia. Bootleggin' mostly."

Frank was flipping through pages of police records. "Marion Rawls."

"Yeah. Went by Raw Dog."

"Don't blame him. Not from here."

"Originally from Cali." Lou pointed to the file. "He's got arrests in Nevada, Texas, Kentucky, New York, and Mass."

"Career criminal," Frank observed.

"At least he made somethin' of himself." Lou shrugged. "Got some info off our matchbook, too. No Tiki Huts local - or even in the state. But several in New York, Texas and Nevada. We're making calls today. Tryin' to see if we can place either Bridey or Rawls near one of 'em recently."

"Sounds good. I'm gonna call these prisons. See if they've got any info on Rawls' previous addresses. May be a hideout somewhere nearby."

"One other thing, Frank. Kinda peculiar."

"What's that?"

Lou scratched his head. "We took prints off everything undah the sun in that room. Including Bridey's knife. Damndest thing. His prints aren't anywhere on it."

"Huh." Frank thought for a moment. "Maybe he had it wrapped."

"The prints that are on it are too crisp. Not a smudge."

"Maybe Rawls had the knife, then. Maybe Judy grabbed it. Maybe her memory is off. She was drugged, after all."

"Yeah, maybe so. Not that it matters anyway." Lou turned away from Frank. "I'm gonna get back to these calls."

Frank made his way into his office, left the noise of the detective pool behind. Sure, it wasn't that big of a deal - the fingerprints. The knife. So why was it grating at him so bad? He winced at the too strong coffee. Pulled his phone closer. Best to focus on finding Rawls.

He'd contacted three different corrections facilities in New York and was on the third one in Kentucky by lunchtime. Rawls had been shuffled around more than a pair of back alley dice. And it seemed his home life was just as sketchy. No known addresses in New York or Kentucky so far. Looked like he'd mostly inhabited hotels, motels and squats. Frustrating. And time for another coffee.

He was pouring when Lou popped into the break room. "Cap'n. Ya got a visitor downstairs."

"A visitor?"

"Yeah. A real leggy one. Causing quite a stir."

Judy. "What the hell..." He rushed down to the main entrance. Cheryl, the friendly secretary, was conversing with his visitor. "Judy?"

She looked tired despite her change of clothes and coiffed hair. Stressed. He'd hoped she'd be napping in her own bed now, but that didn't seem to be the case. "Frank." She frowned, approaching him. "I'm so sorry to come to yar work."

"Nah, yar fine, Judy. What's wrong? What's up?" He led her to a relatively secluded corner beneath the stairwell.

"Ms. Turner kicked me outta the hostel. That bitch."

"Why?" He was shocked. Not terribly upset, but shocked.

"My story was in the papers this morning." She rolled her eyes. "What a way ta be famous, I guess. But she doesn't want me in there attracting the wrong sort of people, as she called 'em. Doesn't want the othah patrons endangered. Frank, I don't have anyplace else ta go right now. I made some calls but -"

"Judy, ya know yar welcome at my house. I'm glad ya came ta me." Honestly? He was thrilled. Relieved. Hopeful that she was still scared to sleep alone.

"I don't wanna put ya out. It's just that if I'm not working -"

"Nobody's put out. Stop bein' silly. Look." He checked his watch. "Let's get some lunch, huh? And yar things? I'll get ya settled in at the house befar I come back here. Got some loose ends ta tie up. How's that sound?"

"Oh, Frank!"

"I could go fer Italian. How 'bout you?" Her smile was a vast improvement on the pinched worry she'd worn earlier.

"I like Italian." That breathless, happy tone she had was addictive. And her cheeks went pink. He knew he was in trouble.

They stopped at Turner's so that Jude could collect her things. There wasn't much to it -two suitcases, a hatbox, and a cosmetic case. Frank was amused to see they dynamic between Jude and Mrs. Turner. Clearly, the older lady resented the attractive younger woman. And while he may have found it unfair and unfounded to kick Jude out of the hostel, he was secretly grateful to the bitter old bitch.

Nucci's didn't look like much, but it was hands down the best Italian food on the east coast in Frank's opinion. Jude didn't seem inclined to disagree. She was on her third breadstick when she decided to converse. "Frank. What are ya doin' here?"

He smiled. "I can ask you the same, right?"

"Sure. I'm game."

He sighed. "I wanted to do something good, I guess. And I always wanted to be a detective. Since I was a kid reading my dad's old pulp novels."

"I nevah woulda pegged you far a gumshoe."

He shrugged. "I felt like the sky was the limit. I mean...death is the end, right? Hell, if this didn't work out, maybe something else would. Nothing ta lose in tryin'."

"Well, ya seem damn good at what ya do."

"Thanks." He managed to grab a breadstick for himself. "So. Yer turn."

"You'll laugh." She fiddled with her napkin in her lap. "It's stupid."

"No such thing."

She took a deep breath. "Befar I was Sistah Jude, I was just Judy. And I was a singah in a lotta clubs like Murphy's. But...I drank too much. And...I um...I got around too much. Ya know." She looked away. "Too many fellas. I was kinda...kinda a whore, I guess."

"Judy -"

"No, it's true." She stopped his protestations. "I was a trainwreck, Frank. So I wanted to do it again, but bettah. Right this time. I wanted ta hit it big." She made finger quotes, self deprecating. "Or something like that." A chuff of wry laughter. "Dumb, huh?"

"Far from it." Their pasta came, and they dished up happily. "Judy. I gotta tell ya. Yer the last lady I would evah associate with dumb. Back at Briarcliff... Hell, I think you were the first woman I evah really respected. I mean don't get me wrong." He held up a hand. "My mama raised me right. I'd nevah treat a woman wrong. But it seemed like every one of 'em I evah ended up with only wanted money or status. And I didn't have either of those things." He chuckled. "So needless to say, I was a permanent bachelor."

"Frank. I always appreciated you. You did respect me. Sometimes, it felt like you were the only person supporting me back there."

"Hell, Judy...I woulda done anything fer ya." He should have stopped before he could say too much. Should have. But like many honest men who came before him, he went on. Cleared his throat. "Actually. Uh...part of the reason I'm here involves you." She looked at him quizzically. "I couldn't evah get past that night, Jude. Judy, I mean."

"What night?" She asked quietly.

"The night I died. Was killed. Whatevah." Why was he saying this? "I heard you screamin' far help. I was tryna get to ya. Sistah Mary Eunice stopped me an-"

"Don't." Jude closed her eyes. Held up her hands to pause his confession. "Do ya know what happened that night, Frank?"

"I was told latah. I wanted ta know you were alright befar I...crossed ovah. The angel of death told me. I was sorry fer what happened, Judy. But I was so glad ya lived. I was...I was proud of ya fer fightin' that crazy bastard. That's why it didn't much surprise me that you defended yarself here. Against these crazy bastards. But now it's my turn, Judy. It's my turn ta fight fer you this time. To find the one that got away. Ta make sure he nevah hurts you again. Nevah hurts anothah -"

"Frank." She swallowed tears. "I nevah got ta grieve far you. Nevah got ta say goodbye. And they - they accused me of killing you! The devil inside Eunice and that fucking Nazi Ard - Gruper. And Timothy believed them! Did you know they committed me? Made me a patient? D'you know what they did ta me?" The tears she couldn't swallow escaped.

"Judy." He reached for her hand. Held it on the table. "What if we were meant ta find each othah here? What if this is our chance to let go of all that awful past and make something bettah?"

Her smile was hopeful. "Like what?"

Certain of what he wanted, but uncertain how to say it, he toyed with her fingers. "I dunno. I guess we're just gonna have ta find out."

"I like the sound of that," she murmured. Frank smiled tightly. It did have a nice ring to it...