She's not going to say it; the theory that this might be part of some long-running conspiracy seems less unlikely than her half-formed gut instinct that she's here to help him through-- whatever he's going through. Even trying to articulate it to herself, it feels ridiculous.

"It's as good a theory as anything," she agrees, shrugging a shoulder. "Maybe your contacts will turn something up. I'm not sure I have any leads-- I can't think of anything they would have wanted to interrupt," she muses. If the answers lay in the results of any of her active cases, he'd be the one to know.

"But maybe a new pair of jeans is the best place to start?"