"McKinnon!"

I headed into the living room of my apartment, blinking against the morning light streaming in through the windows, and tied my robe tighter around my waist as I wondered absentmindedly what time it was. My alarm hadn't gone off so it must have been early. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. Special Agent Jake Parker was standing on the other side, bellowing my name from the hallway.

"McKinnon! Let's go! Come on! Burning daylight here," he called. I wrenched open my door and he stepped easily inside without being invited.

"I have neighbors, you know," I chided as he looked around. "What are you doing here? How did you even know where I live?"

"Got your address from your file," he told me casually as if that wasn't a massive invasion of my privacy. "We've got to get going, come on."

"Am I permitted to get dressed at least? Maybe make myself some breakfast?"

"Dressed, yes," he answered. "Breakfast, I got it covered."

He held up a bag.

"Donuts?" I asked as I headed back into my room to quickly get dressed for the day.

"Yeah, donuts."

"Donuts are an incredibly unhealthy breakfast choice," I shouted from the bedroom as I stripped out of my robe and rifled through my closet with a frown. I'd only worked in research institutions or professional office settings while in the city and my wardrobe reflected that fact. I would need to go shopping at my earliest convenience for certain articles of clothing that might be more useful in chasing down the perpetrator of a violent crime. "Fried yeast rings at six in the morning?"

"Well, you're a cop now so get used to the donuts."

"I'm not technically a cop strictly speaking," I reminded him as I pulled the most stretchy dress I owned from the closet and hoped it would provide at least enough comfort and flexibility for whatever another day in the FBI would bring. "You eat donuts?"

"Yes."

"Regularly?"

"Yes," he snapped from the other room. I could hear him getting irritated with the conversation and couldn't help but smile as I slid into the dress. "What are you getting at here, McKinnon?"

"Well, you just don't look like someone who feasts on fried dough every morning."

"Not every morning but- wait, what's that supposed to mean?"

I exited my room in the professional fitted purple dress I'd chosen, smoothing it out as I piled my brown hair atop my head in a this-will-have-to-do bun. I would have to forego most of my makeup but I managed to swipe some mascara and a tube of lip gloss from the top of my dresser as I exited my room.

"You're in very good shape," I told him simply with a shrug. "That's all I meant. Far better shape than someone who I would assume eats so much junk."

"Was that a compliment, Doc?" He asked. I looked up and saw him smirking at me. I rolled my eyes and approached, uncapping the tube of lip gloss and puckering my lips as I turned my back to him only a foot away.

"Zip me?"

"I- oh um-" he cleared his throat and I smiled at having wiped the smirk right off his lips. "Sure."

I felt his fingers fumble with the zipper on my lower back before pulling slowly up to secure the dress around me.

"Sorry," he muttered after a bit of fumbling. "I'm not used to helping my partner get dressed. Frank did alright on his own."

I chuckled and grabbed my bag off of the kitchen counter.

"Thanks," I said and strode toward the door. When I was level with him, I smiled and plucked the donut bag from his hand. Reaching inside, I popped one into my mouth as I headed for the door and leaned down to slip into my heels.

"Heels, Doc?" He asked with a raised brow. "I know you're used to the professional dress but we're chasing criminals here."

"I can run in heels," I snapped and then looked back with a shrug. "Besides, it's all I have here."

He gave me a doubtful look but I ignored it and wrenched open my door before heading into the hallway. He followed and we made our way to the elevator and then down to the street.

"Nice place you've got up there by the way, Doc," he said as we reached the SUV and he, true to form, opened the passenger door for me like a true gentleman before snatching the bag of donuts from me in a very unchivalrous manner and jogging to the driver's side.

"Where are we going?" I asked as he climbed inside.

"The University of Maryland," he answered as he clicked his seatbelt. I nodded in understanding and grabbed another donut as he pulled away from the curb, headed for Maryland.

It took us no time at all to get to the campus, it being far too early for any sane commuters to be on the roads already, and I followed Parker straight into the office of the Dean. I watched as he asked his secretary to speak with him and when he flashed his badge as she tried to deny him. That did the trick. She led us straight back to the Dean's office and pushed open the door apologetically to introduce us. Once the introductions were complete, he sat and faced us, hands folded upon the desk.

"What can I do for the FBI?" He asked. He was making a concentrated effort to appear calm but I noticed the small ticks in the corner of his smile and the fidgeting of his fingers that told me otherwise. Not that it mattered. It wasn't all that uncommon for even innocent people to feel uncomfortable in the presence of law enforcement, especially federal agents.

"A student of yours, Cody Aaron, you know him?" Parker asked.

"Not personally. There are over thirty thousand students at this school, Special Agent Parker. I don't know each of them by name."

"Yeah? Well, can you look him up? Tell us what sort of trouble he's gotten into? What sort of student he is?"

"I'd be happy to comply. If only I knew what Mr. Aaron had done to draw the attention of the FBI, I might be of more use."

"Statutory rape, for starters. Then we're thinking he's our prime suspect in a homicide investigation. The rest we won't know until you pull him up on your little screen there."

The Dean's eyes having gone as wide as saucers at the mention of the word rape, he began furiously typing away on his keyboard.

"Uh, Cody Aaron," he sputtered after a minute. "Sophomore. Majoring in Communications. He's an average student, mostly Cs and low Bs. No record of any disciplinary action. He lives here on campus. The Commons."

"Can we see his dorm room?" I asked then. Parker glanced my way, as did the Dean, but when my partner seemed to back me up by raising his brow in expectation of an answer, the Dean began to sputter again.

"I- well, I suppose."

"It's university property. You can either give us permission or we can come back with a federal warrant with your name on it, filed publicly," Parker told him.

"Ah, er, yes then. I'll just get maintenance to meet us with the key."

He tapped out a few things onto his keyboard, likely directing maintenance with his instructions, and then led us out of his office and across campus to the dorm known as the Commons. We passed boys playing frisbee and girls sitting on picnic blankets giggling over their books. It was a nostalgic feeling for me. My collegiate years had been some of the best thus far. It was interesting to see that universities seemed to be the same everywhere. Even down to the cheaply made dormitory doors which we stood in front of moments later as a balding man bent over, trying several keys in the outdated lock. Finally, one of them turned and the door opened to reveal a typical college boy's room.

It was messy but with a sort of organized chaos. Books piled atop his desk, interspersed with random pages of notes and several writing utensils. His bed was unmade and dishes from previous meals sat stacked haphazardly upon his nightstand.

"I'll leave you to it then," the Dean said and rushed off with the maintenance worker as soon as possible.

"So," Parker said when they'd gone, grabbing a nearby baseball and tossing it up in the air as he watched me wade through the dirty clothes on the floor to get a closer look at the boy's dresser. "Why are we here?"

"Observing someone's private living quarters is the closest thing to observing their soul," I told him as I poked through the stacks of books on his desk.

"Remind me not to let you into my apartment."

"Why?" I asked, glancing over my shoulder with a smile. "Afraid of what I might discover?"

He smirked back, "Not as afraid as you should be."

I chuckled and shook my head, turning back to my examination of the boy's room. I knelt down by the bed and dropped onto my stomach to peer beneath it. Under the bed was one of the most common hiding spots for teenagers and young adults. Unfortunately, there was nothing there but a moldy sandwich and an obscene amount of socks.

"I can't imagine how much soul someone can put into a uniform dorm room," Parker argued with my theory, wrinkling his nose as he poked a finger at a rotting apple core.

"Parker," I said then, tone serious. I had started to rise from the floor where I had been kneeling when the object had caught my eye.

Parker looked up to find me using the pencil in my hand to hold up the evidence I'd just found for his perusal without touching it. Between Cody Aaron's mattress and the slats of his bedframe was a restraint system. As messy as he was, he'd left the ankle cuff hanging out of the bottom of the bed. I held it up now for Parker to see. His lips parted slightly and when his eyes met mine and I knew we were thinking the same thing.

Ligature marks.

"Whoa, who are you?" Someone spoke suddenly from the doorway. I glanced past Parker to see a young man with a seashell necklace and long blonde hair staring at us, wide eyed. He held a grocery bag from the on campus convenience store in his hand. "What are you doing in my room?"

"Are you Cody Aaron?" Parker asked, turning to face the boy.

"Yeah..." the boy answered, looking back at me where I knelt, still holding the restraint on the end of a pencil. "What's going on here?"

"FBI," Parker told him, flashing his badge. "We're gonna need you to come downtown and answer some questions. Doc, bag up the cuffs."