"Has anyone heard from Schmidt?" Rashid asked while he tapped a file jacket in his hand.

"Don't the Feds have him tied up this week?" Davidson asked in reply as he dropped into his seat. "It'll be a little quieter around here, I know, but I'm sure you can manage."

"I'm not sure if he was supposed to show up there or not, but he's got a report I need for today's compstat."

"I'm sure the commander will be fine with her golden calf making a mistake," Davidson shot back.

"I'm not going to explain to you how fucked up that is on so many levels," Rashid replied to him. "Either way, if you hear from him can you let me know?"

"Sure," Davidson said as he leaned back in his chair. "I'll let him know his boyfriend's sweating fucking bullets about him being a little late to the office. You know how he is, probably getting ass and lost track of time."

"Are you kidding?" Rashid said with a laugh. "This is Schmidt we're talking about. The guy would have moved into this office if it were allowed. He's never late because he never leaves but you're right. Maybe he got sick of your shit and quit."

"If that's true, I want his stapler."

"Sarcasm really is lost on you, isn't it?" Rashid offered as a parting gift while he headed out into the hallway. It had been over two hours since he'd left a message with Brandon asking him to call and at least confirm that he'd be there with the report in time for the meeting during the afternoon. Without that information, he'd be in the blind. He thumbed his phone to life and noticed there was no response. Rather than leave another voice mail with him, he called Nick Chandler.

"How's things downtown?" Nick asked.

"Same as always. Listen, have you heard from Schmidt?"

"Katze?"

"Yeah, he's got a report I need today and I've tried calling him but haven't gotten an answer."

"Didn't he have that Fed thing?" Nick asked. "I mean, I'll call him and see if he answers, swing by his apartment."

"Let me know what you find out, thanks."

"Sure thing. Hey you try checking his email for that report? He usually sends himself a copy," Nick suggested. "Password's his dog's name."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, been telling that guy for years to change it but he's a stubborn son of a bitch about it."