Chapter Twenty. "And his name is John Doe?

"And his name is John Doe? Are you kidding me?"

"He's...well, he's a little slow," Casey said.

"And he's willing to give DNA," Leslie added.

Tori spun around. "Does he know he's giving DNA? If you said he's under arrest, has he requested an attorney?"

"No."

"So when you say he's slow, does he even know where he is?" Tori glared at Casey. "Christ, O'Connor, we can't screw this one up on a technicality."

"It's been by the book, Hunter." Leslie moved between them, feeling the need to defend Casey. "We told him he can request an attorney to be present. We told him he didn't have to talk to us. We told him he didn't have to volunteer DNA. It's by the book."

"Does he know why we want his DNA?"

"Yes."

Tori nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry. It's just--"

"It's been a long night for us all," Casey said. "Let's just do it and get it over with. Besides, he's not our killer."

"How can you be sure? Anybody can put on an act of being slow."

"I don't believe it's an act, Hunter. But we're getting the DNA, so that won't be an issue."

"And we can hold him overnight. I spoke with Mac. He called Emerson. They'll put a rush on it at the lab."

"Okay. Have we offered him a phone call?"

"Yes. He said he doesn't have anyone to call. We'll cut him loose in the morning."

Tori stared at them both, finally relaxing. "Okay. It's your case, your call." She turned to go, then stopped. "You let Malone know?"

"Yeah." She smiled. "He said to run it by you."

"Wonderful," she murmured with a sigh. "All right, I'm heading out. See you guys in the morning."

Casey slumped down in her chair as soon as Tori left, and Leslie couldn't stop herself from going to her. She slid her hands across her shoulders, squeezing gently, feeling the tense muscles under her fingers. She squeezed harder, eliciting a moan from Casey. A moan that caused a shiver to run up her spine. She closed her eyes for a moment, her hands still resting on Casey's shoulders. Then she moved, patting her arm in what she hoped was a friendly manner.

"Are you as tired as I am?" she asked lightly as she sat at her own desk.

"Mmm. And you could have put me to sleep with that backrub," Casey said, her eyes still closed.

Leslie watched her, unobserved, and she was free to stare. Casey's brow was furrowed, drawn. Her normally flawless complexion showed signs of stress tonight. Even her lips, usually curved upward in a smile, seemed lifeless. But then those blue eyes opened, catching her staring. They held her captive, refusing to let her go. Not that she tried to pull away. Because Casey's eyes were anything but lifeless.

"You should go home," Casey said quietly. "It's late."

"We've got--"

"I'll wait for Emerson. You go." She said, flexing her shoulders. "Michael's probably worried."

Leslie nearly flinched at the mention of her fiancée’s name. Those moments when she stared into Casey's eyes, she'd forgotten she had a fiancé. She wondered if Casey mentioned his name on purpose, just to remind her. Or perhaps to remind Casey that he existed.

God, it was suddenly getting too complicated.

So she nodded, getting to her feet. She picked her keys up off her desk and slipped them into the pocket of her jeans. She'd left her purse in her car earlier in the night. "I guess I'll head out then. See you in the morning."

Casey only nodded, her eyes slipping closed again. Leslie watched her for a moment, then left. But at the door, Casey called to her.

"Les?"

"Hmm?"

"We can do this. It'll be okay."

The words were spoken softly, surely. And they took her by surprise. She didn't have to ask her to explain. She knew exactly what Casey meant.

And she was scared to death.

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