"What do you have?" Hank asked, sighing heavily as he held out his hand for the file in Tristan's hand.

"It might not be anything," Tristan said, handing over the file before taking the seat next to hers.

"But you don't think so," Hank said, opening the file.

"No, I think all the cases are connected," Tristan said, leaning back in his chair and looking relaxed while she sat there trying not to fidget. "If you'll look over my notes, you'll see that all fifty-eight of the women I've selected for this were last seen near restaurant supply stores or high class restaurants."

"How far back does this go?" Hank asked, dropping his gaze to the folder.

"Twenty-two years."

"No bodies?" Hank asked as he continued to look over Tristan's notes.

"No, and not one of them has been seen since. No calls, letters, or sightings."

"Have you contacted the detectives on these cases?"

"Yes."

"And?"

Tristan ran a hand through his neatly combed hair, sighing heavily. "They have no new leads and they don't have the manpower to look into this."

"Neither do we," Hank said with real regret in his tone. "We're backed up as it is, Tristan."

"My main focus is on my cases, Hank, but I really think this deserves some attention as well."

Hank nodded as he closed the file and handed it back to Tristan. "Just make sure that you don't fall behind. Let me know if you find anything that we can use."

Tristan took the file back, not looking all that surprised, she noticed. "What did you need to talk to us about, Hank?" Tristan asked casually with absolutely no fear as he met her father's gaze head on.

"You're not meeting the requirements of our agreement," her father said, surprising her. She couldn't help but sag a little in relief that she wasn't about to get chewed out in front of Tristan. It also meant that she could still speak to her father about everything. She didn't want him hearing about what happened from someone else. She wasn't a child and had no plans of trying to hide what happened from her father or lying about it. It was just a little awkward talking to her father about what happened. She doubted many people eagerly spoke to their parents about their sexual escapades.

"I've been cleared medically," Tristan pointed out.

"Yes," Hank said, sighing as he picked up a clipboard and looked it over. "You do realize that I'm not buying this bullshit sign off, right?" he asked, looking up to meet Tristan's eyes and she could have sworn her father looked amused.

"They signed off, Hank. That's all that's required for me to return back to work," Tristan pointed out, still holding her father's gaze.

"Uh huh, care to tell me how they went from suggesting extending light duty as well as physical therapy and hinting at the need for a second surgery one day and the next signing you off and repeatedly stating in your file that you didn't need to go back there ever again?"

"The miracle of modern science," Tristan said with a straight face as she struggled not to smile.

"Then explain why they stated several times that if you have any further problems that you should be seen, but by someone else? In fact, they went as far as to attach the contact information for fifty other doctors. Now why do you think they did that?" Hank asked as he leaned back in his chair, studying Tristan.

The corner of Tristan's lips twitched, but he said nothing. Finally her father sighed heavily as he ran his hands down his face. "You may have gotten out of the medical requirements, but you still need to complete your therapy sessions before I can release you from medical," Hank pointed out.

Tristan's lips pressed into a firm line at that announcement. "I did the required therapy," he said evenly.

Hank shrugged. "You have more."

"You can't do that," Tristan said, sounding pissed.

"Yes, I can," her father said without any hesitation. "You will complete the group therapy sessions before you’ll be allowed to resume the rest of your duties," her father said and she just barely stopped herself from pointing out that he already had when her father's gaze shifted to her. "And you will start doing the job you were hired for or I'm going to have to let you go until you get your degree."

"W-what?" she asked, a little more than stunned. "I have been doing my job."

"No, you haven't. You were hired to type, but he's been doing his own typing," Hank said, gesturing lazily to Tristan. "You were also hired to drive him, but again, he's been doing that. If you can't do your job, Marty, then I'm afraid that I'm going to have to let you go."

She’d just bought a new car. Well, new to her, to anyone else it was an overpriced piece of crap, but it got her from point A to point B and back so she was happy. If he fired her, she wouldn't have money to pay for her insurance, gas, her phone, or anything for that matter. She'd have to dip into her savings and she didn't want to do that since it meant that she'd have to put off getting her independence for a while longer.

If she lost this job she'd have to take another dead-end minimum wage job and she could not afford to do that. She needed this job. If she lost it maybe she could-

"She is doing her job," Tristan said, shocking the ever-living hell out of her. She'd expected him to agree with Hank that she wasn't doing her job so that he could finally get rid of her.  "She's created a more efficient database, making it easier to put in information and cutting down half the time needed for paperwork. She's very efficient and works fast, Hank. I think it would be a waste of her talents if you didn't put her in the secretary pool so that she could help the rest of the department," he said casually while she sat there simmering.

That sneaky son of a bi-

"She already has a job," Hank said with a long-suffering sigh. "She's supposed to be your assistant right now."

Tristan shrugged. "I don't need an assistant."

"That's too bad, because you've got one," Hank said firmly as he leveled a hard look on both of them. "I don't know what's going on here and I don't care. I need you released from medical-"

"I would be if you didn't impose this bullshit on me," Tristan said, cutting her father off. "I did what was required by the Department and I should be back at full status and we both know it. Making me go to group therapy is asinine, Hank. I don't need it or have a problem."

"You don't think so?" her father mused, looking amused for some godforsaken reason.

"No," Tristan said evenly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Hmm," her father made the noncommittal sound as he studied Tristan. "Perhaps we should ask Marty what she thinks. If I'm wrong and she agrees with you, then I'll take away the requirement."

Almost immediately she had two sets of eyes focused on her, one looking amused while the other was glaring a silent warning. Well, this was interesting. Why exactly did her father think that he needed more therapy, correction, group therapy? More importantly, why he thought that she was qualified to voice an opinion on the matter was beyond her. Her focus wasn't on clinical psychology, but on criminal and for all his faults Tristan was not a criminal.