�Hey, Mary.�

�Hey,� she replied coolly, looking at John for the answer. He shared the same answer he had given the detective moments ago. Diane noticed, however, that there was something different about how he looked at Mary. Covering her mouth so no one would see her smiling, Diane followed Mary out of the office.

�Hey, Mary?� Diane caught her in the hallway by the stairs.

�What?� Mary turned, her face filled with disgust. She clearly remembered that Diane was the reason for her breakup with Danny, and she obviously hadn�t forgiven her for that. Diane decided to boldly proceed.

�Do you know why Claire would be upset today? She was acting really weird on a call this morning, and I just thought...�

�Well, keep your thoughts to yourself. I have no idea what�s going on in her head. She�s acting like a total bitch, and I�m sick of it.� Mary turned and stomped up the stairs. Diane returned to her desk, more confused than ever.

Two hours later, Diane tired of staring at her phone, and she left the precinct to go home. Harry hadn�t answered his phone, hadn�t returned any messages all day. Diane was obviously angry when she stood to leave. She grabbed her coat a little too roughly, and her chair bounced with a huge clatter. Danny had a smug expression on his face, and Diane narrowed her eyes to scowl at him.

�What?� he shrugged innocently. �Hey, don�t look at me! If it were up to me, we�d be having a romantic dinner with flowers and everything. So, the guy doesn�t know how to treat you on Valentine�s Day. That should say something to you, don�t you think?� She wanted to slap that smug smile off his face, but she settled for growling at him. Danny tossed is coat over one shoulder and sauntered out of the office, whistling cheerfully.

When Diane left the station, she noticed the rain had continued, unabated. When she returned home, she checked her machine. No messages. She showered, grabbed some tea, and picked up a book to read by the fire. The chamomile and the fragrance from the warm crackling cedar logs relaxed her. She was hoping for floral scents by now. At three a.m., she woke on the couch. Her book was facedown on her chest, and her thumb was holding her place. Her neck was stiff so she sat up and stretched, put the marker back in the book and stood to go to her bedroom. On her way past the kitchen, she glanced at the machine. The maddening light was on and steady. She grumbled in frustration as she went to bed.