Bosco sadly hangs up the phone and looks up at Susan, who sits near his desk. Yokas appears and confirms that the New Jersey police department is going to take another crack at locating Joe -- who is both an NJPD officer and Chloe's missing husband, while also a possible clue to Suzy's whereabouts. Bosco nods grimly and bolts out of his chair to go beat the truth, the tar, and the toxic hallucinogens out of some drug addicts. Susan watches him go. "He's wound a little tight," she observes. Yokas sits in the seat Bosco just vacated and says good-naturedly, "Yeah, sometimes." She senses Susan's lack of faith in her partner, and decides to vouch for the goofball. "I got two kids, and if one of them ever goes missing, Bosco's the guy I want looking for them," she says sincerely. Susan absorbs this. Little Suzy's stuffed monkey is sitting between them on the desk, and I find myself more worried about who's giving it a good cuddle than about whether Suzy shows up again. I'm also the person who, after wading to the end of A.I., could think of nothing but who would look after the gravelly-voiced teddy bear who was left alone at the end. I am a pathetic woman.

"She's a good mother," Susan offers. Yokas glances up from her paperwork, surprised but not bothered. "She is," Susan avers. "Drug addiction is a disease. It's recognized as a disease by the American Psychiatric Association." Yokas twitches a trifle. She knows rationalization when she hears it, and it rankles her eyebrows -- look, there goes one of them now, shooting right up toward her hairline. "What about pedophilia? That's recognized as a disease," Yokas points out acerbically. "Want a child molester raising a kid?" Susan loathes the analogy, but Yokas defends it. "I'm not really interested in why somebody hurts a kid," she begins. "I don't care. All I want to do is stop it from happening." Susan claims that Chloe didn't hurt Suzy. Susan evidently didn't hear the terror in that girl's voice on her answering machine. "No," Yokas shoots back, "she lost her." Susan is taken aback, but can't deny it.