"Apologies for the room. It's all we've got at the moment," Detective Barrett ushered Madelyn into a large interrogation room. "It's just us," he reassured, noticing Madelyn glancing at the two-way glass that ran the length of the wall.

The steel chair legs scratched over industrial flooring as the two of them settled around the long table.

Barrett shuffled the files around on the table between them. The stack of papers contained within had grown since the last time they had met. Madelyn was definitely not happy about being back at the police station and most especially unhappy about being there alone. She had distracted  Harry enough over the weekend, she rationalized. That conference was going down as the best she had ever attended, thanks entirely to Harry showing up and occupying her completely whenever she wasn't required to be present.

"Some of what we've found is possibly not what was expected, but it is progress and we are getting closer to being able to provide some solid answers."

Answers were good, and over due, Madelyn thought as she shuffled in her seat. It was impossible to get comfortable in this building.

"I wish Mr. Styles had been able to join us today. I doubt he's going to be happy with this news," the sergeant rubbed his forehead with his thumb and first two fingers as if he were pushing back a headache.

"We were out of town this weekend. He had a lot of work to catch up on, so I thought I'd field this meeting alone." In hindsight, that was probably a mistake. Madelyn knew already that Harry would be less than pleased that she hadn't even tried to call. It was too late now; she would have to face the music when she saw him.

Forty minutes later, the rear door to the kitchen at Next flew open with such tremendous force, that it slammed against the building and shook the frame on the return.

"What the fuck?" Harry stood to the side of the ovens, an advanced economics text in one hand, the evening specials menu in the other. Every occupant in the room stared in silence as Madelyn raged into the room. For seconds, only the sounds of music and chatter from the dining room could be heard.

"That bitch! That jealous, conniving, little, criminal bitch, Harry!" Her anger was palpable, nearly rising off her body in streams of smoke.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Harry quickly handed the things he held to the head cook he had been conferring with before the temperature in the room rose to approximately the flames of hell. "Slow down, Professor. Come with me," he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the steps leading to his apartment. "Noah!" he hollered into the bar as they passed, "Hold down the fort."

"Sure thing, H," Noah waved him off.

"Sit," Harry gestured to a chair when they got upstairs. He closed the door on strains of Brandy crooning, 'I'm sorry that you seem to be confused. He belongs to me. The boy is mine!'

Instead of sitting, Madelyn pulled off coat her and threw it into the chair. She began to pace violently. "You sit down! You're going to need to be sitting when I tell you this shit."

It seemed best to comply, so he sat on the arm of the chair and waited. She didn't seem to be calming down.

"Mads, are you okay?" That was probably a dumb question, she clearly wasn't okay.

"Definitely not okay, Harry," she kicked the coffee table and didn't wince, though it had to have hurt her toe.

"Baby, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me what's going on. Everything was fine when I left your place this morning. What happened?"

Did she just growl? He was pretty sure that was a growl and not the good kind.

"Katelyn! That's what happened."

"Did you have a run-in with her? You know I banned her from Next and told her to keep her distance or risk her job. We can't fire her from Etta's without a solid reason, she's too likely to sue and we can't deny she's been a good employee."

"Does attempted murder count as good employee behavior?" Madelyn was yelling as she continued to stomp around the room.

Shooting to his feet, Harry had her by the shoulders before another word came out of her mouth.

"Jesus, okay, slow down," he crushed Madelyn to him.

Kisses rained over her crown, forehead, and cheeks before Harry's lips settled on hers. There was no ardor, just a grounding reassurance that he was there with her. Pressing his hands aside her face their gazes connected. The turmoil in her dark green eyes wrenched his gut. With deliberation, he inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling slowly through pursed lips. On the second cycle, Madelyn followed his lead, repeating several times, until she calmed.

After leading her to sit next to him on the couch, Harry tried to make sense of the situation.

"I think you're going to have to back up and fill me in on what's going on."

Madelyn was glad he had her hands in his, fingers intertwined. She felt more grounded by his warm touch. Taking one more cleansing breath, she let the words tumble.

"I got a call from Sergeant Barrett this morning. He left a voicemail on my cell and another on my office line."

"Okay. It must have been important, for him to leave two messages."

"You could say that. He asked me to come in as soon as I could make myself available. I cut my office hours short, after seeing the only students who had been scheduled."

"You went alone," it was a statement, not a question.

"I did, and believe me, I'm sorry I made that choice. I knew you were behind after taking the weekend off to come to the conference. With school work backed up on top of Next... I was just trying to save you any distractions."

"You are never a distraction. Well, you are, but in a good way," his lips lifted briefly. Harry knew she regretted not including him; it would do no good to beat a dead horse. "So you went down to the station..."

"I met with Barrett. His investigation of my accident, that wasn't, in fact, an accident, has gained momentum. And evidence. Did you know that they had compelled Katelyn to provide a hair and fingernail sample?"

"I didn't. I haven't been to Etta's in a couple of weeks. Murphy and Becca have been coming here to meet. They haven't said anything to me about her."

"Barrett informed me that they considered her a person of interest from the beginning. When the lab results came back on the blonde hairs and broken nail they found in my car, she climbed to suspect. The police brought her into the station for more questioning,"

"What did the lab say about the hair?" he released Madelyn's hands and got to his feet. "Was it a match for hers? This is so fucked up."

"Yes and no. There were no roots because the hair was shed, not pulled out. Barrett said no roots, no DNA. But one of her co-workers they interviewed had previously said Katelyn dyes her hair. Remember how freaked out she was the day she showed up here and told you they wanted a hair sample?"

Harry ran his hands over his face, then through his hair. "I wish I could forget." Remembering the fallout that came on the heels of that visit was still a sore spot. Anything that kept him separated from the woman he loved was unwelcome.

"Well, the lab determined not only that the hair was dyed, but also what brand and color were used. That's when they were able to bring her in and get a warrant for a sample."

"It was a match," Harry's voice was ice cold.

It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room and they existed in a vacuum. Seconds passed in silence before Madelyn spoke.

"Yes. It was a match. She was in my car... Harry? Where are you going?" Madelyn was up and after him, grabbing his arm as he reached the door.

"Stay here. I'm going to go find Katelyn and get some damned answers! This is un-fucking-believable!"

"Harry! You can't."

"I won't do anything, I just want to talk to her. I want to hear her explain this to my face. What was she thinking? I honestly didn't believe she was this screwed up. It's my fault you were hurt, and Jesus, Mads, you could have died! Don't you understand? In a twisted kind of way, this is all my fault."

The pain in his voice and labored breathing only added to the thick tension in the room. Madelyn smoothed one hand over his rapidly beating heart while the other continued to bind him.

"I know you're angry and upset, I am too. Furious, in fact. I meant what I said though. You can't talk to her."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because the police served a warrant on her apartment earlier today. They found a polish that matched the color on the broken fingernail and a box of the hair dye she uses. Worse than that, they found sulfuric acid in her storage unit. Harry, they arrested her while I was with Barrett."