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Her partner was a stocky man in his mid to late forties with more hair coming out of his ears than covering his head.  His name was Pete Tortino.  He smoked heavily and was chomping away at a piece of gum while they were at the scene.  They hadn�t talked much on the way to the scene, such as it was, but Sara already knew that they would get along.  He mentioned that he had read one of her papers a while back and thought that her ideas needed more cases to back them, and she returned with a comment on a paper that he had co-authored several years earlier that was similarly received by the few readers of that particular forensic journal, one that she had been a subscriber of for many years though she knew that most of the forensic community at large didn�t feel most of it�s contents were worth the paper it was printed on.

�There�s no such thing as a good case,� Sara said sadly as she closed up her case and exited the subway car.  Six months ago she never would have said that, but somewhere between Vegas and New York she had stopped seeing every case as an exciting adventure and started seeing the human emotions behind the cases again.  She hadn�t focused on emotions in a long time, but somehow she had lost her ability to focus solely on the evidence and not on the people that the case involved.  �What now?� she asked.

�I gotta be in court in an hour, so you�ll havta break the news to Malone and Co.�

Sara frowned and put her sunglasses on as they reached the street.  �Who?�

�They�re Missing Persons here.  Best in the Bureau.  Back at the office, eleventh floor.  Jack Malone is the SAC,� Pete said.  SAC, or Special Agent In Charge, basically boiled down to team leader when it came to day-to-day operations.  SAC only really meant anything when you got involved in task forces and multi-section cases.  �You did good, kid.  Jack�ll understand.  He prefers to work off phone records and pounding the pavement anyway.  Forensics goes right over his head,� he added gently.  �You good to get back on your own?  I gotta hit the dry cleaners before my appearance.�

�I�m good,� Sara nodded.  She offered to take his case back to the lab and then she haled a cab and gave the driver directions back to the office.

The lab was in the basement of the building, a place not initially meant for forensics, but it was serviceable and there was a good flow to the many sections of the lab.  Back in Vegas it seemed that everything revolved around the DNA lab, something that seemed to please Greg Sanders to no end, but the Federal Building had a long hallway with mini-labs on either side for whatever specific task needed to be accomplished.  This hallway was closed off behind several security checkpoints and not even the Deputy Director in charge of the entire New York office was able to come to the lab without an escort and proper clearance.  Security had been something of an issue back in Vegas, Sara had often thought, but it would be nearly impossible for anyone to tamper with the evidence in her new home.
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