"Sometimes, the smallest decisions can change your life forever."
Keri Russel

The sun wakes me with its bright rays shining through the sliver between the drapes. I yawn and stretch as Sam's arm tightens around my waist, pulling me close to him. I smile at his reflex while sleeping. I know he's still sleeping because of the purring sound of his gentle snore.

As I lay there, I remember last night when Sam asked me to walk away from this case. Sometimes, I want to walk away when a case gets complicated, but the Jerry Powell in me will never allow it. I'm more determined than ever to find out who is behind this bullshit.

It's Sunday, and Sam has the day off. We had decided to devote this day to the investigation. We know it will take a while for the forensics team to process the evidence we collected at my dad's farm. Frank asked the unit to rush it, but even rushing could take some time.

Sam stirs behind me. I take this opportunity to remove myself from under his arm and get out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Sam whines in his sexy-as-hell gruff morning voice, "I want to cuddle."

I chuckle at his adorableness. "I'm going to the bathroom then starting the coffee. Don't worry; I'll be back for cuddles till the coffee is ready."

Sam groans and rolls over. I laugh as I pull Sam's shirt from yesterday over my naked body. A few minutes later, I returned to the bedroom after completing my tasks. Sam is snoring; so much for cuddle time. I head into the bathroom to shower and ready myself for the day.

I'm plating pancakes for breakfast when Sam appears in the doorway with his boxers riding low on his hips. Damn!

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I greet him a little too enthusiastically.

"Morning," Sam grunts, unimpressed with my cheery demeanor.

I slide the cranky beast his coffee; he doesn't acknowledge me. His attention goes right to his mug. I leave him alone and continue to get breakfast ready.

Several minutes later, Sam begins to turn human again. "What happened to cuddle time?"

"Snoring happened to cuddle time," I respond with a grin.

Sam smirks and wiggles his brows with mischief. "I wouldn't have complained if you woke me up."

I laugh, "Eat!" I instruct as I push his plate toward him. "We have a busy day ahead of us."

"Yes, ma'am."

When we finish breakfast, Sam does the dishes before getting his shower while I get our computers and files organized on the table. I'm logging into my laptop when my phone buzzes. It's my dad.

"Hey, Dad. Miss me already?"

Dad chuckles, "I always miss you when you're not here, Dee."

"Awe. Who knew that you were so cheesy," I tease. "What's up?"

"Can't a father call to check on the daughter who practically got shot?"

"Dad, I didn't practically get shot. It was a warning." I attempt to sound more confident than I am.

My dad takes an exasperated breath. "Dee, even warning shots can be dangerous and life-threatening. Ask Frank; he'll tell you."

I cringe, knowing that Frank wouldn't have injuries from the shooting if it weren't for me.

I concede, "You're right, Dad. I'm sorry. Frank's wound is my fault."

"There's no reason to be sorry, Dee. Frank's injury was not your fault. If it were anyone's fault, it would be mine. I'm the one who called him to help, not you," my dad responds with regret. "You know that Frank would do it all over again, right? Why don't we both stop taking the blame for Frank's decision to jump in front of a bullet for you, deal?"

"Deal." I love how my dad can spin a situation around to comfort and help me process it.

I see Sam enter the dining area with his messy towel-dried hair and black gym shorts clinging sexily to his body. I'm saddened when he pulls his teeshirt over his head, hiding his defined muscular torso.

He raises his brow and gives me a who's on the phone nod. I mouth Dad to him, and he acknowledges his understanding with a smile.

"Hello? Dee? Are you still there?"

Shit! I forgot all about Dad. "Um, yeah, sorry, Dad. Sam just came into the room and distracted me."

Sam gives me a seductive smirk before refilling our coffee cups and joining me at the table. He fires up his laptop and lets me finish my conversation with my dad.

Dad groans, pretending to be disgusted. "I said my call was to tell you that Frank ran the fingerprints from my mailbox through AFIS."

"Hold on, Dad. Let me put you on speaker." I press the speaker icon. "Okay, Dad, you said Frank ran the fingerprints through AFIS?"

"Yes, he did. After clearing our fingerprints, only one found was unaccounted for, and it ended up belonging to my mailman. However, Frank was able to pull a partial palm print. There were no hits in AFIS, but the good news is that we'll have something to compare the palm print to once we catch the suspect."

I sigh, "That is good, Dad. Now, all we need to do is find a suspect."

"I feel confident that the evidence collected here a couple of days ago will help to accomplish that task," Dad says with assurance.

"Thanks, Dad."

We say our goodbyes with promises to keep each other updated on the case.

I turn to Sam. "Ready to get started?"

He leaned over the table and sweetly kissed my lips. "I was born ready, my love."

We split up the two cases. Sam takes the Gregory Wallace case, and I take the unidentified body left at a Big Dog construction site. We made this decision based on my bringing fresh eyes to the cold case assigned to Sam years ago.

I re-read Sam's notes regarding the body of a male, age 30-40, found at a site where Big Dog Contractors had just filled the building's footers. The victim was shot execution-style in the back of the head. I pause.

"Sam?"

He looks up from his computer. "Yeah?"

"We need to get the bullet from this case."

Sam finishes my sentence, "To compare to the bullets found under the tree at your dad's place."

I smile. "Exactly."

Sam grabs his phone to call the police station's evidence locker to request the evidence collected from the case, including the bullet that they removed from the victim's head.

His next call is to Frank. He asks him to pick up the evidence and get the bullet to forensics to compare to those collected at my dad's farm. Each bullet shot through the barrel of a gun leaves distinctive ridges and groves imprinted onto the shell as it projects from the barrel. The forensic unit can verify when the ridges and grooves match another bullet, indicating that the same weapon fired them both.

"Good call, Babe."

"Thank you." I grin.

Sam and I spend the remainder of our day with our eyes on our computers investigating the cases. Fortunately, Sam has access to criminal databases and uses this to search other unidentified bodies in the surrounding area, crossing jurisdictional borders in the hopes of seeing if any of them match Gregory Wallace's description. Just as we're about to take a dinner break, Sam hits pay dirt.

Sam turns his computer screen towards me. "Babe, look at this."

I close my laptop and pull Sam's towards me. What I see is shocking.

"Oh my god, that looks just like Gregory Wallace."

Sam has a forensic photo of a deceased man matching Gregory's description along with Gregory's actual photo. The resemblance is uncanny.

"Where was this body found?"

"Two and a half hours away in the Conejo Mountains west of Newbury Park. The body was found by a jogger a week after Wallace went missing."

I raise my brows in surprise. "How did this not come to the attention of the police?"

Sam shrugs. "Unfortunately, it's uncommon for police to share case information with other bureaus, and no one seemed to care that Wallace was missing. The detective assigned to the case chalked it up to Wallace disappearing so that he could start over and escape prosecution for the sexual harassment."

"That makes sense." I turn Sam's laptop back to him.

I get up to make dinner as Sam calls the Ventura County Sheriff's Department regarding the unidentified man in the photo.

As I hear Sam speak to an officer on the other end of the telephone line, I smile. This case is finally coming together.

Unfortunately, at that exact moment, the suspect was making plans to ensure this case stayed unsolved.