As he steps over the police tape, he see her standing on the bank with her feet almost in the water. She does not look around at his approach, though his boots make a great deal of noise on the lose round rocks.

"What brings you out to the field, Liz?"

"The same thing that brought, I imagine, Jack. Doubt."

"I didn't know you shared my feelings on this matter. Your report was pretty conclusive."

"I established that cause of death was drowning, yes. He was alive when he went into the water. And no signs of struggle- hyoid intact, no bruising, no blood. Just perimortem damage to the cranium just above the foramen magnum. Easy to sustain in a chaotic environment like this one, but… If someone hit him hard enough to knock him out to but not kill him, and he fell into the river and drowned…"

"A plausible scenario. The question is, why?"

"That's your field, not mine."

"I know, but homicide isn't something I have a lot of experience with. And so long as it's officially an accident, I won't be getting any help from the feds."

She finally turns and looks him the eyes. Hers are piercing blue green with a cold, cerebral glint, framed by a pair of stylish green specs. His are a nondescript shade of brown, with a darker spot in the left one and a warmth behind them that brings calm to those they alight on.

"I believe in you."

"That means a lot."

The tension between them mounts until she can no longer bear it. She looks away.

"I assume you've ruled out his wife. Holt's got an alibi. I guess that just leaves his work."

"Very insightful. In the morning, perhaps."

"In the morning," she repeats in a flat voice.

He shrugs and starts turns back towards the treatment plant and his car.

"Liz?"

"Yes?"

He almost asks her.

"Take care of yourself."

"Sure thing, Jack. You too."

He trudges back up the hill. Another day.