Continuing on now with my Alternate Universe fake season two episodes - this is AU-S2.06. Things get more complicated between Catherine and her biological father, Michael Reynolds, the head of the re-invented Muirfield now called 'The Company.' And Vincent may have some competition . . . . Please let me know what you think!
As usual, I do not own the characters or story premise.
Though Lovers Be Lost
Chapter 1
"Vargas. Chandler. You're up."
When the partners approached their boss, Michael Reynolds, he handed them a folder and not much else.
"Homicide. South end. Appears the perps were interrupted. Get out there pronto. The uniforms are still on the scene. Possible domestic violence, but I have my doubts. And I'd like this personally overseen by the two of you. Keep everyone else out of the loop until I say so, got it?"
Catherine squinted at her boss. There was something in his eyes she didn't understand. Was this one of 'The Company's' mishandled operations? And was her oversight necessary because Vincent might possibly be involved? She shuddered to think it. Grabbing her jacket and Tess's arm, she felt the need for extreme urgency.
The brownstone was quiet. Oddly, the officers on the scene had cut their lights and parked down the street. She wondered if that had been by Reynolds' order.
As she pulled to the curb, Tess read the single sheet aloud that they'd been given. "Anna Mallory, wife, mother of two, twenty-eight years old. A neighbor heard yelling, then shots, and bravely kicked in the door. He found the victim dead on the floor in a pool of blood and her husband nearby, alive but just barely." She looked up. "I wonder why this has Reynolds tied in such a knot?"
Catherine put the car in park. "So are they not sure there was an intruder, or what? Sounds like a possible murder-suicide. Any priors on either of them?"
Tess scanned the detail sheet. "No. Uh. Uh-oh."
"What is it?" Catherine turned to look at her partner in the squad car before pulling the door handle to get out. Instead of answering, Tess handed her the paper.
"Justin Mallory?" The name sent her into a tailspin.
"I'm sure it's just a coincidence, Cat. There could be lots of Justin Mallorys," Tess said, not very confidently. Catherine was already half way out the door.
"Cat! Wait. He's already at the hospital." Tess hurried to catch up with her. They flashed their badges to the uniformed officer who opened it almost as soon as Catherine got to the top step.
"Detectives." A harried officer greeted them. "Glad you're here. Reynolds said to treat this one gingerly. The victim's in there."
Tess took the lead and hurried in the direction the officer had nodded. The medical examiner was just finishing up. Catherine could see the victim lying just inside the archway to the sunken living room. There were noises coming from the back room. Just as she turned that direction, another officer came out of the hallway, one young child in tow; a baby in his arms. "Which one of you is Chandler?"
"That would be me," Catherine spoke up.
"Good. Here. Take them."
Before she could even respond, Catherine found her arms filled with a rosy cheeked baby, perhaps eighteen months old, and the hand of a toddler transferred to hers. She balked.
"Don't give me any grief," the officer cut her off. "This is by Reynolds' order. Said not to call Child Protective Services. There's something fishy about this case. He's being very tight-lipped. Ordered us to turn the children over to you - said you'd know what to do."
"But—!" Sure. She knew what to do as a detective, not as a day care worker! She eyed the young boy at her feet. He looked dazed and afraid. She pulled him over to a couch in the family room – as far from the scene in the living room as possible – and up beside her next to his sister. Both children were fair haired and blue-eyed, not their mother's coloring from what little she'd seen of the vic on the floor in the other room.
"Here, sweetheart," she cooed to the boy, snuggling him closer and brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes. "It's going to be okay." Empty words, but all she could think of.
Tess came out of the living room some minutes later looking for her. "Oh, God."
Cat looked up helplessly. "Tess, help me."
"What are you doing?"
"Apparently, I'm to be the babysitter, according to our boss."
"Reynolds assigned the children to you? What are they, witnesses? Why don't we just call Child Protective—"
"I can't. I just got off the phone with him. He said they are not to be contacted—that we're handling this in-house. He wouldn't say why, just that I am assigned this duty, exclusively, until the case is resolved. And you're on your own."
"That's bunk! Just because we're women, men think they can stick us with stuff like this! It's crap. I'm going to call him myself." She pulled out her cell.
"No, Tess." Catherine signaled to her partner to lean closer. "I think this might be one of his 'tidying up' procedures, if you get my meaning. This smells of you-know-who."
"You mean, M?" Tess asked carefully, her voice close to a whisper.
Catherine nodded. "For now, I think we need to just do what we're told. I'll try to talk to Reynolds again later, when it's easier. Right now, I need to get these children out of here. Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Would you find out how Justin is? Please?"
Tess nodded, understanding. The boy, who looked to be about four or five, was sucking his thumb anxiously. The baby, more oblivious, was playing with Catherine's hair. She didn't envy her partner. "I'll call you as soon as I get a status on him."
"Thanks."
An officer approached. "Here's a baby bag and some clothing. There are a couple of car seats in the back room I think will work."
Other than that, she was on her own. Message received. Catherine leaned down and spoke gently to the little boy whose name she'd learned was Leo. "Come with me, sweetheart. We're going to go for a ride. I'm going to take you to my place for a little while."
"Where's my Mommy and Daddy?" he asked, his shriveled thumb coming only part-way out of his mouth as he spoke.
"Uh, Daddy is . . . sick right now and is at the hospital. That's why I'm taking you to my house until he gets better."
"But my Mommy—"
"She's not here right now." A truth, if indirect. Catherine cringed. Was that what you told a child in this situation? She had no idea. "My name is Catherine, by the way." The baby had latched onto a lock of her hair and was twisting it painfully.
"No, I'm trying to fix them something to eat right now. Do toddlers eat salad?" she asked, frowning into her refrigerator. "Wait. I think I have a can of soup in the pantry." She listened to Tess as she rummaged through the shelves. "Sure. I understand. You don't have to apologize." She'd rather be anywhere but there, too. Tess was not exactly a kid person. "No, I'm sure we'll be fine. It will only be for a day or two, anyway, right? I'm sure I can manage. Maybe I'll call JT; have him bring me some supplies. I'm glad to hear Justin will pull through. That means a lot to me. Thank you, Tess. Call me tomorrow. Okay. Bye."
Catherine spun around to find two small pairs of eyes following her every move. "I'm in so much trouble." She looked down at her phone. It was a long shot, but maybe he'd be available . . . .
"Thanks for coming so quickly."
Vincent eased open the doorway from the porch and quickly scanned the room. "Yeah, sure. I came as soon as I could get away. You all right? Your message sounded urgent."
She had just finished cleaning up the dirty plates from the dining table but there were still bowls of food on the counter. "Sit down. Eat something. It's still warm."
Vincent frowned. "Catherine—. You're nervous. Is there a threat?" He could detect faint heartbeats from somewhere nearby, but he assumed they were from an adjacent apartment.
"No. I just—I don't know how to tell you this. I don't want to upset you."
"You're not late again, are you? Just tell me."
"No," she assured him. She shouldn't have been so vague. The way she'd made it sound, no wonder he was worried. "I'm sorry. It's nothing like that." Nothing like, 'oops, I might be pregnant with your baby and you have animal DNA. Considering the alternative, this scenario wasn't half so alarming. She took a breath. "Uh, do you remember when we first . . . got together and I told you about a-a relationship I had long ago—in the past—where I really liked a guy?" she asked carefully, watching his eyes.
"'Disaster'?"
Oh, right. She had described it that way. "You remember."
"Yeah, well, I had a need to understand my competition."
She smiled. "You don't have any competition."
"So then why would it upset me?"
"His name was Justin. Justin Mallory. We were—we were close . . . once."
"Okay . . ." Vincent tamped down his jealousy. Nothing she said so far was new, other than the guy's name. But why was she bringing him up, unless—"
"He's part of a case I've been assigned to," Catherine answered his unasked question.
"A case?"
"Yes. There was an incident today on the West side—"
"Mommy, who's that?"
Vincent was up and out of his chair so fast it fell backward. A small child, he guessed about four, came out of the bedroom wearing footy pajamas.
"Oh, honey, did we wake you?" Catherine hurried to the little boy and squatted down to his level.
"Mommy?" Vincent repeated, ominously.
She gave him a squelching look. "Give me some credit, would you? He's confused. I guess I look . . . a lot like his mother." To the boy she said, "It's Catherine, remember, Leo?"
The toddler acknowledged her words but his eyes were drawn to Vincent and no doubt to the long jagged scar that covered the right side of his face from eyebrow to mouth.
"This is my friend Vincent. Vincent, Leo."
When Vincent turned surprised eyes toward her, she shook her head. "It's okay. He's just a child. It's not like he's going to ID you or anything. Just . . . give me a minute to get him back to bed and then we'll continue our talk."
Instead of staying put, Vincent followed her to the bedroom where another child, younger still, already lay sleeping in the middle of the bed surrounded by pillows to keep her from falling off. He'd only intended to watch, but when Catherine tried to coax the boy back onto the bed, Leo turned and reached for him.
"I need go potty."
"Oh. Okay—" Catherine began, but Vincent interrupted.
"No, it's fine. I'll help him. C'mon, Buddy."
"Not Buddy. Leo."
"Right. Like the lion, huh?"
The boy shook his head. "Like Leonardo. Ca-Capwio."
Vincent smiled. "Oh, of course." Like it was the most natural thing to do, he bent to lift the child and Leo went straight into his arms. He carried him into the adjacent bathroom.
Catherine watched, dumbfounded. After a few minutes of low talking, which she couldn't understand, she heard a flush, then water running. Vincent was making Leo wash his hands. The two came out, hand-in-hand, moments later.
Together, they settled the boy, who snuggled up to his sister and closed his eyes.
"So, who are they?" Vincent asked, when they were back in the living room, alone.
"They're Justin's children. Their mother was killed yesterday. Justin is in the hospital recovering from his wounds."
"They were attacked?"
"I'm . . . not sure." She'd actually been left out of the loop and Tess had not called to give her an update for a few hours. Catherine took the seat opposite him on the sofa. "We thought it might be a case of domestic violence at first, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's much more complicated than that."
"How so?"
"Because Reynolds is overseeing this. Personally."
"Reynolds?"
Catherine could almost see the veins in Vincent's neck begin to swell at the mention of the man's name. The head of the re-invented Muirfield organization, now known as 'The Company,' was doubling as her precinct captain. Though she'd also recently learned he was her father, this stranger was not well known to her. She didn't trust him, and neither did Vincent. She spoke quickly. "He's my boss, remember? My assigned task is to keep them here with me for the time being, I assume until Justin is recovered enough to take care of them again. It's crazy. It's not like I know the first thing about taking care of babies."
Vincent stared, recalling a gut-wrenching two minutes not long ago when she thought she might be pregnant. The idea horrified him, not because she wouldn't be the most wonderful mother, which she would, but because of his own situation and DNA. "Your instincts are good, Catherine. Don't worry. But are they in danger?"
"Not that I know of." She shook her head, still trying to figure it out herself. "This is just some quirky idea of Reynolds'. I actually thought you might be involved somehow." When he shook his head, she frowned. "I just wish I knew what he was up to. In the meantime, I'm stuck playing 'mommy' to the poor things."
"Well, uh, you know, I might be able to help. I mean, they're just children, right? Like you said, they aren't going to ID me or anything. I worked in the pediatric wing for a semester before the ER. I know a thing or two about taking care of young children."
Doctor. Of course. "Would you?" Relief flooded her. "I mean, just give me a few pointers. I'm way out of my comfort zone here."
"Sure. Do you have food, diapers?"
"Only what was in the baby bag they gave me, plus a handful of clothing items."
"I can have JT pick up some supplies and deliver them tomorrow morning before his first class. I'll make a list."
"Thank you. I'm so sorry. I know this is awkward. Justin is—was—a close friend."
Vincent scrawled notes on a notepad by the table while she talked. "You don't think he was responsible for his wife's death, do you?" he asked carefully. This was a touchy thing. The fact that Reynolds was involving himself spoke volumes. Perhaps old-flame-Justin had a bigger secret than anyone knew.
She sighed. "I don't know what to believe. Forensics haven't come back on the gun yet. The Justin I knew could never have done anything like that. There must be another explanation. But the fact that Reynolds is involved worries me. I thought at first it might be because of you." Her eyes flickered to his.
"I don't kill innocent women, especially not mothers of young children."
"No, of course not. I just meant . . . I don't know what I meant. Forgive me. I feel a little off kilter with all of this."
And no doubt from her ex-boyfriend suddenly showing back up in her life. Vincent bit down on his tongue. She didn't need his jealousy; she needed his help.
"That little one was a cutie. And Leo—"
"You should see her with her eyes open. They're both so sweet and innocent."
"What will happen to them?"
"I guess that depends on Justin."
"You really cared about him."
The way he stated it without asking said volumes for where his head was at. " 'Cared' as in past tense, Vincent. I haven't even thought of him in years."
"You thought of him the first time I made love to you."
Catherine's eyes flew to his. So there was some jealousy going on. "Not . . . not because I was thinking about him. I was thinking about myself and what a wreck I'd been trying to please some guy I liked."
"There's that 'liked' again."
She put a hand to his cheek. "The truth is, I've never had a relationship like this before. There is no comparison. What I feel for you . . . it's different. And a little scary because it's so strong. That's all I was trying to say. I mucked it up because . . . I felt light-headed and a little out of control because that's what you do to me. And if you don't know by now what you mean to me," she touched his lips with hers, "then I need to work a lot harder and tell you more often."
"I might need to hear it a few times." He agreed, and kissed her back, a little more lingeringly.
She smiled. It didn't take much to sidetrack him. "Kiss me like that again and I'll say whatever you want . . . ."
Catherine wasted no time in confronting Michael Reynolds at work the next morning. She knocked on his office door once then let herself in and shut the door behind her.
"Detective? I thought I assigned you kiddie duty today."
"Yeah. About that. And they're fine until I return—they're with a friend. But I had to talk to you."
"Make it fast. I've got a little under five minutes before I have to be in a meeting."
"Is Vincent involved?"
"With what?"
"Is he involved in the Mallory case, because this has 'The Company' written all over it."
Reynolds stopped what he was writing and looked up. "No."
Typical. Getting information out of him was like squeezing water out of bread. And just as fun. "Then why are you involved? You're obviously covering something up and setting Justin up to take the blame."
"Number one, I don't owe you any explanations." Reynolds ticked off points on the fingers of one hand as if lecturing a child. "Number two, Justin is a big boy who got himself involved in things way over his head. If anyone's to blame, it's him. And three, why do you care? He's nobody."
"He's someone from my past that I cared about! But you knew that, didn't you? Just what is your game?"
"Like I said, he's a nobody. Why should you care? You've obviously moved on with your life."
Meaning, with Vincent. Their relationship didn't set well with Reynolds but she couldn't care less. "That doesn't mean I don't care about him. It isn't right. I certainly wouldn't want him blamed for Muirfield's work!"
She'd said the name in a hushed tone, but the fact that she said it aloud didn't make him happy. He clamped down on his jaw. He stood. "Some things are bigger than you and what you want, Catherine," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Not everything revolves around you or your beasty-boyfriend."
Not one to be intimidated, she held his eye contact, but that didn't mean she wasn't quaking inside. This man was powerful and he had Vincent in his clutches. "I never said it did. But what will happen to the children? If Justin doesn't recover?"
"They will be put into foster care. It's not pretty, but that's how the world works, and you should know that by now. Why? Did you think they'd make a neat addition to your little non-family?"
Catherine tried to calm herself. Just breathe. Reynolds was an ass and he was baiting her. She finally turned toward the wall and the rows of placards declaring all of his awards and recognitions. Who knew how many of them were real? "Why do you hate me so much?"
That brought his head around. "I don't hate you. You're my daughter."
"Not by your choice," she pointed out. He'd been perfectly happy letting her and the rest of the world believe Thomas was her father. Michael Reynolds had never wanted her to know the truth. If it hadn't been for Vincent, she still wouldn't.
"I just think you've made some lousy decisions in your life."
She cocked her head. "Not that you have any say in what I do with my life, but are we talking about Justin or Vincent?"
"What do you think?"
She quit his office still completely in the dark and more worried now than when she'd entered it.
