Half an hour later found us knocking on the screen door of Chelsea Lucas's house. There was movement inside. I'd heard it as soon as we'd walked up. But Mrs. Lucas was taking her time in answering the door. When she finally did, it was with a scowl and only enough to peer out at us beyond the chain keeping her door from opening fully.

"Mrs. Lucas," Parker started in greeting, "we have a few more questions about your daughter's whereabouts on the day of her disappearance if you don't mind."

"I have to go to work," she grunted. That was interesting. Parker seemed to think so too if his sidelong glance my way was any indication.

"It will only take a moment, Mrs. Lucas," I assured her. "I'm sure you want answers just as much as we do."

She stared at me for a moment before unlatching the door and opening it the rest of the way. Parker and I exchanged another glance as we entered the house for the second time. We did not venture into the living room this time. We were not invited. Instead, we remained standing in the entryway as she stood across from us, arms folded across her chest in annoyance.

"Look, I don't have nothing left without Chelsea, you understand?" she snapped. "All I've got now is my work. It's the only thing that gets me out of this house where I can't do nothing but cry. So, if you don't mind, I'd rather not be late and lose it."

"We won't be long, Mrs. Lucas," Parker assured her again, though I noticed his eyes were not on the woman but were instead casting about for any evidence in plain sight. "When was the last time you saw your daughter?"

"I told you. Over a week ago."

"Right. See that doesn't exactly add up."

"What?" she snapped, clearly getting more annoyed. "What do you mean?"

"Her boyfriend said he saw her a few days ago and when she left, she said she was coming home."

"She had a boyfriend?" Mrs. Lucas asked and, in her surprise, her cold demeanor cracked. She loosened the arms she had previously held crossed against her chest, lowering them to her sides as she considered this newest revelation into her daughter's unknown personal life. "I- I didn't know that. He said she came here?"

"He did."

"Well, she didn't," she answered. "I told you, the last I saw of her was a week ago."

Parker wasn't paying any attention to her at all now. It was clear that Special Agent Parker didn't have a plan as far as talking to the mother was concerned. He had only wanted to gain entry to her home long enough to examine it. But her patience was running short and we were already on borrowed time. If we didn't think of a legitimate question to ask her, and soon, we would find ourselves back on the street, no wiser than when we knocked on the door only moments ago.

"Did you ever tie your daughter up to keep her from leaving the house?" I asked. Parker's head snapped up in my direction and his lips parted in surprise at my bluntness. Mrs. Lucas seemed shocked herself, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"I- I don't- excuse me?" she queried.

"We've heard from several sources that you've locked your daughter up on occasion to keep her from leaving the house. Did you ever need to take it a step farther to ensure her compliance?"

"How dare you," she growled then, advancing on me in anger, face reddening as she approached. Parker jumped in front of me to stand between us.

"Calm down there, Mrs. Lucas, it was just a question," he told her. "Perhaps it could have been phrased better, but it was only a question all the same. We have to ask these things, you know."

"I am a good mother," she snapped, narrowed eyes still firmly on me. "I would never do anything to hurt my daughter. She was everything to me. She was all I had. I tried everything to keep her away from those kids. They were ruining her life and she couldn't even see it. So yes, I locked her in the house once or twice. It was the only way to get her to listen to me, to get her to talk to me."

"But did you tie her up?" I repeated. Her jaw tensed and she gritted her teeth as she pointed behind us to the door.

"Out," she shouted. "Get out!"

"If you have nothing to hide, you'll allow us to search the house," I called over her rage.

"Get out now and don't come back without a warrant!"

She was pushing now. Parker tossed up his hands in surrender and gave me a gentle nudge over the threshold and onto the porch beyond. The screen door slammed behind us as we set foot on the concrete ledge.

"Nice," Parker scoffed when we were alone.

"I think it worked well enough," I told him, joining him in the descent down the stairs and onto the walk leading back to the SUV.

"How so?"

"She got upset, very upset. More upset than she was even when we told her that her daughter was dead. It was quite revealing the way she reacted to my question."

"Yeah, well, I imagine I would be offended too if someone insinuated that I tied my child up like some caged animal."

"If you don't want people asking you questions about how you caged your animal, then you shouldn't cage the animal at all," I countered as I climbed into the passenger side.

"I can see how it might have been psychologically helpful to see how she reacted to such an implication," Parker confessed with a sigh as he climbed into the car as well and pulled away from the curb. "But there's one thing you haven't considered."

"What's that?"

"If there was any evidence in that house, there's a good chance it'll be gone by the time we get a warrant."

He was right. I hadn't thought of that. I was a Doctor, not an investigator. This was the aspect of the case that truly showed my weakness. I hadn't considered the possibility for the destruction of evidence and my blurting out such an offensive and pointed question had tipped her off and given her ample time to destroy anything she might deem incriminating.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. Parker looked over at me and nodded.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he told me, lightheartedly. "You up for some dinner?"

I glanced over, caught off guard by his easy manner. It seemed a total departure from his usual personality. Or perhaps the gruff overtones had been a defense mechanism for shielding his true personality from me and I was just seeing the truth now.

"Yeah," I nodded, interested to see where this new development might lead us.

He smiled and took a sharp turn to the left, driving back toward the bar and grill he'd taken me to before and for the rest of the trip, we did not discuss the case again.

"You like baseball?" he was asking as he held the door to the restaurant open for me to enter. I did and strode to the bar to take the same seats we had before.

"It's alright," I answered. "I'm much more into football."

"Really?" he sounded surprised. I looked over to find him on the verge of laughter.

"What's so funny about that?" I asked.

"Nothing. You just don't seem like the kind of woman who enjoys such an... aggressive sport."

"I have two brothers," I confessed and he nodded in understanding. "Both older than me. They both played so I spent a majority of my childhood going to their games. My younger sister, she was the girly one. All tutus and tiaras for her."

"And for you?"

I smiled.

"I got in trouble once for ruining my brand-new corduroy overalls by playing football with my brothers and their friends in the mud," I told him and he smiled. "My mother said it wasn't very lady like."

"Did you win?" he asked and I laughed.

"Oh no. I weighed about sixty pounds. They treated me more like the actual football than the safety I was intended to be."

He laughed loudly at that and I couldn't help but smile at the sound.

"So who's your team?" he asked as he took a sip of the beer the bartender had brought over.

"Don't laugh," I prefaced. "But the Cincinnati Bengals."

He raised a brow.

"I know they're terrible," I rushed on to explain. "But they're my hometown team and I have fond memories of going to those games with my dad and my brothers. It was the only thing I ever got to do with just the guys. So there's a bit of an attachment there but I'd also defend their honor regardless of their record."

"That's good," he told me with a smirk. "Means you're loyal."

I took a sip of my drink and smiled back.

"Who's your team?" I asked and he looked over at me. "You said you like baseball."

"Right," he nodded. "The Cubs. I was born and raised in Chicago so I follow pretty much all of their teams. I'm a Bears fan myself."

"Could be worse," I shrugged. "You could have been from Pittsburgh."

He laughed.

"I don't think that Cody Aaron was the one who wanted to use the restraints," I said suddenly and he sat down his drink and listened. "He's not the personality type. I know that, sexually, people can vary from their personalities in a big way or even perhaps reveal their true personality in moments of pleasure. But crisis also reveals one's personality. And when he thought you suspected him of murder, he panicked."

"You don't think that he was the one who wanted it rough?"

"I think..." I started, considering how I wanted to phrase my next statement in a way that wasn't speaking ill of the victim, "that consenting adults have a right to choose to have intercourse in any way they see fit. So long as it's a healthy, understanding relationship with hard limits known by both parties. Sexuality is a part of personality and I would never tell anyone how to live their sexual experience any more than I would tell them who they should be. But Chelsea Lucas was a child. A child who seemed to have had some serious psychological issues that transformed into a certain level of treatment that she began to believe she deserved. I've seen this sort of rebellious self-harm in a lot of patients who've suffered abuse."

"You think her mom tied her up."

"I do. But I can't prove it. Not yet. And I'm afraid my implications may have destroyed any opportunity to do so."

Parker sighed at that and then, in a stunning display of vulnerability, reached over and took my hand in his. He gave it a squeeze.

"We all make mistakes," he told me. "I still do. But I always find a way to make up for them. We might not need evidence of the rope if Portia can figure out what caused the edema-"

"Yes," I interrupted. "The edema. That's right."
I stood suddenly from the bar.

"Doc?" he asked, confused.

"The lab," I said. "I need to go to the lab. If I can review the results, maybe I can find something they missed. You know, make up for my mistake."

"Oh. Now? Well, if you need a ride, I could-"
I placed a hand on his shoulder and he stopped.

"That's alright. I'll get a cab. Enjoy your dinner. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, I left the bar and grill with a renewed sense of purpose and a new mission.