"Pulmonary Edema."

Dr. Portia Warner was succinct in her proclamation and took no pains to further explain herself, instead clutching the file to her chest as we stood over the body of a sixteen year old girl, and staring at us as we processed the news. She was very pretty, Dr. Warner, with the standard long blonde hair and hourglass figure that every man drooled over. Her lips were glossed pink and pouty and her heels clicked against the floor when she'd approached us. She didn't appear to be the type of person one would find in the cold basement of the laboratory morgue but I had to admit her presence did manage to liven up the place, if only a little.

"So... not murder," Special Agent Parker said simply.

"I wouldn't be so sure," she replied with a smile. She set the file down on the end of the table and walked around the body so that we were standing on opposite sides of it. "Sixteen year old girls don't just drop dead of pulmonary edemas with no history of any sort of lung disease. And with no noticeable trauma to any of the cardiac components or-"

"English please, Dr. Warner," Parker interrupted and she smiled up at us.

"Chelsea Lucas died from excess fluid build up in the lungs."

"Like pneumonia?"

"Not quite. This wasn't a slow build up over time. This was a rapid development over the course of a few hours. Not to mention the ligature marks our tech found in the field-"

"So someone killed her by... filling up her lungs with fluid."

"There are several chemicals that can harm your lungs," I told him then, utilizing my PhD in Chemistry to its full capacity. "Some of them are even household chemicals. Sulfur dioxide, hydrogen sulfide, ammonia. Even aspirin or chlorine."

"Rat poison?" Special Agent Parker asked.

"Perhaps if directly ingested," I answered and then looked to Dr. Warner. "But that would have shown up on the tox screen. I'm guessing it didn't?"

She smiled at me before answering, "No. It didn't. But something caused the pulmonary edema. We're still working on what that might have been. You said she was a drug user? Heroin and cocaine have both been known to cause pulmonary edemas in cases of overdose."

"Weed," I answered. "She smoked weed."

Dr. Warner nodded knowing that wouldn't have done it. She looked back down at the body as if staring at it would get the victim to reveal the secrets of her murder.

"Well," Special Agent Parker started then, putting his hand on my back and pushing me toward the door. "You'll keep us updated on anything you find?"

"Of course, Jake."

"Thank you, Portia."

I glanced between them as Special Agent Parker led me out of the basement of the laboratory, which he had informed me they lovingly called 'The Crypt' and down the hall toward the stairs.

"Of course, Jake? Thank you, Portia?" I repeated, raising a brow in challenge. He glanced my way with a frown.

"I'm starving," he said. "Are you hungry?"

Having forgotten to eat lunch, I couldn't disagree. So he took me back to the car and drove off toward a bar and grill he swore by, avoiding the topic of Portia the whole way. But I was a psychologist and his avoidance of the subject matter told me more than anything he could possibly say about it so, by the time we reached the restaurant, I'd decided to let it go. For now.

We took our seats at the bar and the bartender greeted Special Agent Parker with a nod and a signal that he'd swing by soon. It wasn't an impressive place from the looks of it. The tables were dingy, the bar was dented and peeled, and the whole room was poorly lit. But it seemed that Parker was a regular here. He did not even glance at the menu while I opened mine to peruse. He placed a hand on the centerfold and pushed it down while I was trying to read the options.

"You don't need that," he told me. "Just order the burger and thank me later."

I watched him for a minute and then nodded and set the menu down.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "I thought you'd be a vegetarian or something."

"Why would you think that?" I asked, sipping the beer the bartender had brought us without my asking.

"The doctor type, you know, the intellectual. Not usually interested in burgers and beer," he told me, taking a gulp of his own with a mocking smile.

"I grew up in the midwest, Agent Parker. Burgers and beer are nostalgic for me."

"Special Agent Parker," he reminded me. "You do that just to annoy me, don't you?"

I smiled.

"Why is the title of distinction so important to you?" I asked.

He sighed and shook his head, "Are you going to counsel me every time we have a conversation, Dr. McKinnon?"

"No," I replied apologetically. "I'm sorry. It's hard to turn off but I'll work on it."

He smiled that time. I smiled back.

"I appreciate it," he said. "So you're a burgers and beer kind of girl, huh?"

"Burgers, beer, pizza, wings, whiskey," I listed some favorites. "I know how to eat, Special Agent Parker."

"Just Parker, okay?"

I nodded, "Parker."

For the first time, I was beginning to feel relaxed around my new partner. The burgers came quickly enough and I suppressed a moan when I bit into the juicy ground beef but could not hide the way my eyes rolled back in my head. He smiled at the reaction and laughed when I hurriedly took another bite, realizing only then how hungry I actually was. We passed the evening in conversation, avoiding the topics of the case or Dr. Portia Warner, and simply getting to know one another.

"Those friends of yours from Saturday," he said as he bit into his burger again. "You're close?"

"We met in undergrad," I told him with a nod as I swallowed my own bite. "Lived together all four years. Then we moved into an apartment together after graduation as they started their jobs and I went back for my doctorates. We've always been close."

"Do you live with them now?"

I shook my head.

"No," I told them. "I started doing work that had me coming and going at all hours of the night. Kacey is very sensitive about her beauty sleep."

He laughed at that.

"What about you?" I asked, munching on some fries. "You live with anyone?"

"No," he answered. "Just me.

I nodded.

"So, South Sudan," he said and I looked up. I had known this conversation would come eventually. "Your file says you were counselling victims of child trafficking and kids pulled into the child soldier trade."

I kept my focus on my burger as I answered, "Yeah."

"That had to be hard," he told me, tone suddenly very serious. I looked up to find him watching me intently but not without kindness. I sat aside my burger and cleared by throat, wiping my greasy hands on a nearby napkin.

"How long have you been working homicides, Special Agent Parker?"

"Years," he answered. "It's sort of all I've ever done in law enforcement."

"Have you ever spoken to a live victim? The ones who made it out?"

"A time or two."

"You know the difference then. Murder and mayhem, that's all terrible. But there's more than one way to take someone's life."

His eyes met mine and there was an understanding there. Neither of us would say it. Neither of us would ever fully talk about the things we'd seen, but there was a kindred spirit between us that only existed between the members of society entrusted to deal with the ugliness of it.

I saw the door to the bar open out of the corner of my eye and a very familiar man standing in the entrance. Parker, being the excellent agent he was, noticed the shift in my attention and turned to see the man who had entered.

"Doc," he said, slowly. "Are you okay?"

"Doc?," I queried, avoiding the topic as he had with Dr. Warner before. I forced a smile, though I was fairly certain he didn't buy it, and continued. "Is that what you're going to call me?"

"Yeah, I think it is," he answered with a smile, allowing my avoidance. "You worked hard for those degrees, after all."

I laughed but noticed the man was approaching.

"Madeline," he said when he was close enough. Parker paused, his mouth hovering, open, over his burger as he watched for my response. I put on a fake smile and turned to the newcomer.

"Cameron," I greeted politely.

"It's nice to see you," he replied and leaned in for an awkward, unexpected hug. Parker watched us closely as we separated and he smiled back at me. "I didn't know you were back."

"I've just returned," I told him and he nodded, casting a glance in Parker's direction as he did.

"I see you're getting settled in quickly," he spoke the barb as if it were nothing more than a pleasantry but the way Parker bristled told me that he had taken the meaning precisely as I had. Cameron, however, prattled right on as if he were oblivious to the insult he'd paid us both. "I've missed you, Madeline. Can I call you sometime? We can catch up. Maybe get some drinks?"

My eyes slid from Cameron to Parker who just sat, watching.

"No, Cameron," I told him gently after a moment. "I don't think that would be a good idea."

He frowned and glanced again at Parker as if he were the reason for my rejection. Why did men always want to blame someone else? Why couldn't they ever admit that perhaps my lack of interest was due to his mistake?

"I see," he responded before nodding and taking a step back. "Well, I'll see you around, Madeline. Welcome back."

I thanked him and watched as he fled the restaurant, pushing open the door and stepping out onto the street. I sighed when I sat back down at the bar. I knew I would run into Cameron eventually but I hadn't thought it would be so soon. To be honest, I hadn't quite decided yet how I would deal with him when I did. I hadn't really even thought of him since I'd returned and been thrust into this investigation.

"Are you okay?" Parker asked and I snapped back to reality in time to see him watching me, concerned, over his forgotten burger.

I forced an unconvincing smile and nodded.

"Wanna split some chili fries?" he asked and that was all it took to make me laugh again.