Letters to the BPD
By Simahoyo
What I sorta of wish could happen. Combines two favorite shows, Rizzoli and Isles and Saving Grace. I own nothing except the unfortunate Carlos.
Investigating the Boston Marathon bombing was a new low for the BPD Homicide Division.. It combined everything calculated to bring the whole squad down, and set their teeth on edge.
Korsak, Frost, Jane and Riley had been close to snapping for almost a week. They were in the bullpen, growling at each other when someone brought in a packet of letters. There was one for each of them, and the return address was the Major Crimes Division of the Oklahoma City Police.
When Jane ripped her's open, it was hand-written in blue ink on OCPD letterhead.
Dear Detective Rizzoli:
I know you are going through hell right now. It was nearly nine years ago when Timothy McVeigh, may he burn in hell forever, bombed our federal building. I lost my sister in the bombing, and I hope you didn't love anyone you love in yours.
Jane closed her eyes, remembering the man who lost both legs fighting his sedatives to give her a note that he saw the bomber.
After that, I kinda of lost my mind. I crawled into a bottle and didn't come out for years. I'm here to tell you that's a bad idea. Between family, my best friend, Rhetta, and Earl, who I suspect you know...I turned myself around. Yeah, I still cry every time anyone talks about the bombing here, but I'm here to tell you there is light at the end of the tunnel. If you need to talk, my email and phone number are on the back.
Grace Hanadarko
When Jane finished the letter, she closed her eyes, remembering meeting Earl while she was in the hospital after shooting herself to save Frankie and Maura.. It was probably his idea for the OCPD to send the letters. She wasn't in a place to call him, so she sneaked downstairs to the morgue. Maura was at her desk, reading a letter.
"Hey, Maur'. That wouldn't be from the Oklahoma City Police Department, would it?"
Maura's eyes strayed from the letter, "It's from Dr. Rodriguez, my counterpart at their morgue. It was very sweet." She sat back, reflecting. "I think it was something I really needed. Some of the things we saw...brought up memories."
"The Congo?" Maura nodded. Jane touched her hand. They communed silently.
"So, my letter was from a female detective. It was a good match."
"Someone made sure everyone got a letter. It was a real kindness."
"They can relate. It makes it special. I'm thinking of writing back."
R&I R&I R&I R&I R&I R&I R&I
When Jane finally got home, she closed and locked her door, and called out, "Earl! Hey, Earl, are you there?"
A scruffy, middle-aged angel stood in the middle of the living room. He was holding a cup of something in a little gourd with a silver straw in it.
"Hi Jane. Those gauchos are going to wonder where I went. What's up"
"The letters They were great. Did everyone get one?"
"Even your mother got one from their cafeteria lady. It was the least I could do."
Jane felt funny about being assigned a last chance angel. Maybe God didn't trust her. Maybe Sister Winifred...
"Jane, out of all my charges , you are the least trouble most of the time.. You do have your moments. Me saying, 'Duck", "Behind you." and deflecting bullets and all, but I have two kinds of charges, Hell raisers and Risk takers. Despite what Sister Winifred says, you are definitely a risk taker. "
Jane looked at her shoes.
"That's why I figured you and Grace would bond with each other. I need to get back and get Carlos out of a bet involving riding a wild bull bareback. Take care, Jane."
Earl disappeared. Curiosity was really nagging at Jane, so she googled Grace Hanadarko.
Grace was hard-working, tenacious and had a great closure record. Jane found a picture and the two women could not have been more different. Grace was a short, stringy blonde, with a stubborn set to her jaw. She was wearing jeans and a leather jacket with long fringe. Jane warmed to her immediately.
R&I R&I R&I R&I R&I R&I R&I
Grace was in her tiny living room, talking to Gus and scrolling through her inbox. Her big, white bulldog was lying on the couch, his head on the arm, looking at Grace. He was a great listener.
"Look, Gussie. That Boston detective just emailed us. Let's open it and see what she has to say."
"Urahah?", asked Gus.
Grace opened the email.
Grace–thanks for your letter. It helped to be reminded that we are not alone. You have been down the same road. I appreciate what you had to say. I could get into over use of beer–stronger stuff too. Glad you warned me. I'm going to fess up. Yeah, I know Earl. It's a screwy situation. I can't tell my family or my best friend. She knows something is up, but she's a devout atheist and a doctor. If I told her about all this, she'd put me in a straight jacket the same day. As for my family...the Pope never pre-approved this...
So, thanks for understanding.
Jane Rizzoli.
"Hey Gussie, she sounds like our kind of people. Let's write her back.
"Woof!", said Gus.
Down in Argentina, Earl smiled at what Grace said, then turned invisible to keep Carlos from being trampled by the wild bull. All in all, a good few days work.
END
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