The Darkness Within

by Jane Elliott

After a federal agent is shot in a little town called Twin Peaks, Fritz asks Brenda and Gabriel to interrogate the suspects. Soon the entire PHD team is drawn into the investigation, as Brenda learns that nothing is what it seems. Brenda/Gabriel UST.

1. Chapter 1

First, the warning: nothing explicit happens in this fic, but everything that happens in canon Twin Peaks comes up in the course of the investigation (and Twin Peaks is not kind to women). You do not have to have watched Twin Peaks to understand this fic (in fact, it's best if you haven't, otherwise you'll probably find the mystery to be rather dull), but be warned that this fic spoils nearly the entire first season of TP.

Obviously, this story goes AU after season one for both The Closer and Twin Peaks. As I haven't seen Fire Walk With Me, the prologue is entirely AU as well.

ETA: I don't usually push for reviews (if you want to leave them, I absolutely love to get them, but that's not why I write), but this is such a tiny fandom that I'm having a tough time getting any feedback at all. Since I'm in the planning stage of writing a sequel to The Darkness Within (right now it looks like it'll be a crossover between The Closer and Veronica Mars), I'd really like to know what people are getting out of this fic. Hopefully that will help me determine whether my writing is effectively telling the story I mean to be telling. So, please, leave a review if you read TDW, especially if you choose not to read past the first chapter. Thank you!

The Darkness Within

If Laura Palmer had known she was going to die that night, she probably wouldn't have spent Friday's study hall finishing up her weekend homework. Seventh period study hall was a joke anyway; Mr. Williams had given up on any pretense of enforced academia early on in the year and now simply required his students to be silent as they slacked off. The end result was usually a flurry of note passing and hushed card games.

Unlike the others, however, Laura really couldn't afford to put her school work off. Between tutoring Johnny Horne, preparing for Josie Packard's English lessons, obligatory dates with Bobby, real dates with James, and spending time with Donna, Laura was swamped on the weekends. Add in her night shifts at One Eyed Jacks and the occasional jobs she did for Jacques, and she didn't have a moment to spare.

In reality, she had less than a moment to spare and even with the cocaine to ease her stress, she was at a breaking point. Something was going to have to give. Unfortunately, the one thing that was best for her was the easiest for her to give up. She was planning on ending it with James tonight, before she went off for a 'party' with Jacques. Jacques had mentioned Leo was going to be there, and Laura felt a flash of heat low in her belly, even as a thrill of anxiety ran across her nerves.

The bell rang, and she was grateful for the distraction as she slid her books into her backpack. She had to hurry; these days if she didn't make it into the parking lot within a few minutes of the bell, Bobby was likely to leave her behind rather than wait.

She got lucky, as she bumped into Bobby in the hallway. He gave her a wink and slid his hand into her jeans pocket. Laura felt the small bag he left behind and her smile got several degrees more genuine. Her supply had been running low.

Bobby was apparently in a good mood today; he draped an arm over her shoulder as they walked outside and offered her a wide smile as he steered her towards his car. It'd been a long time since he'd smiled at her like that; under its warm glow she could almost remember why she'd dated him in the first place.

A familiar car pulled up in front of them as they stepped out into the parking lot and Laura's mouth slipped into a frown as the driver's side window rolled down.

Leland Palmer looked up with a smile. "Hey, honey. I thought I'd give you a ride home."

Laura leaned into Bobby just a bit. "Sorry, Dad. Bobby's giving me a ride."

"Oh," Leland said, his smile faltering a little. He hesitated a moment before adding, "It's just that we don't see much of each other these days. I thought we could talk. You know, some father-daughter time." His expression turned cajoling. "Maybe we could get some ice cream?"

"Well, we really hadn't-- oof!"

Laura removed her elbow from Bobby's ribs. "Maybe some other time, Dad."

Leland sighed and nodded sadly before rolling up his window and driving away.

"What was that all about?" Bobby asked, dropping his arm from Laura's shoulder as they walked the last few steps to Bobby's spot. The sign in front of his space read 'Best Quarterback in the State!'

"Nothing," Laura said. "I just didn't want to deal with him today."

"Uh, okay," Bobby said. He opened the door for her, today. Usually he forgot these days. "You want me to drop you at Donna's, then?"

"That'd be great," Laura said, sliding into her seat and leaning back with a sigh.

Twelve hours later, she was dead.

Eight Days Later

"Oh, fiddlesticks," Brenda huffed as one side of her bun slid down while she attempted to pin up the other side. She was interrogating a serial killer today, an elegant Bostonian woman who had coldly and methodically murdered at least four of her five husbands, including her latest: a well-known, Oscar-winning movie producer who had transplanted his new wife to LA and left her twenty million when he died.

"Did you just say 'fiddlesticks', Chief?" Sergeant Gabriel called from the living room, sounding amused. He was giving her a ride today, as her own car was in the shop. Now she wished she'd asked him to come a half hour later.

Brenda narrowed her eyes at the mirror in front of her, which reflected back a disheveled woman with an overly generous mouth and tendrils of hair flying every which way. Lucinda Scott would take one look at this unkempt face and sneer while asking for an attorney. It was Scott's sheer arrogance that had given Brenda a reprieve up to this point. Now she had to face the killer as an equal and to do that, she had to look the part.

"You doing okay in there?" Gabriel called.

"No," she snapped back in frustration. "My hair refuses to cooperate and we're already running late!" She jerked the half-made bun apart. "Damn hair," she muttered. "At this rate we're going to have to let her go."

"We'll be fine," a voice said from right behind her.

Brenda started in surprise and spun around, nearly bumping into Gabriel in the process. He gently took her shoulders and turned her back to face the mirror. "Though I think it'll save us all a lot of time if you let me help with that. Now, where's your brush?"

Wordlessly, Brenda handed it over. She could still feel the ghostly impression of his fingers touching the bare skin of her shoulders. She couldn't decide if she should regret or rejoice in her decision to wear a sleeveless dress today. Regret would have been the smarter emotion; unfortunately she'd never been very smart when it came to her personal life. Which was why Fritz was in Washington and Brenda was single. Again.

Gentle hands stroked through her hair and she pushed away thoughts of Fritz. "Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, aiming for defensive.

Gabriel snorted. "I've dated white women, you know."

Brenda bit her lip and managed not to say something she'd regret. Instead she closed her eyes and just let herself enjoy Gabriel's fingers softly scraping her scalp and the careful way he pushed the bobby pins into place.

"There, done," he said, long before she was ready for him to stop.

She blinked a couple of times. "Oh. Oh, thank you." Then she got a closer look at her hair, which was perfectly arranged into a sleek chignon. "Thank you," she repeated, with significantly more sincerity. "That's perfect."

Gabriel rolled his eyes, just a bit. "We should get a move on, Chief."

"Right, right," Brenda said, trying not to sound as flustered as she felt.

ooo

As they waited at a light, Gabriel asked a question, though not the one she'd been expecting. "I've been meaning to ask you, Chief; I notice that you don't really swear, except sometimes in interrogations. I mean, 'fiddlesticks'? 'Heck'? 'Fudgesicles'? What's up with that?"

Brenda fought down a smile. 'What was up with that' was that she'd learned at an early age that a woman who acted like a true southern lady, who didn't swear, who was relentlessly polite, and who could smile when anyone else would have frowned, was almost always underestimated. She liked being underestimated. It made it easier to cut men off at the knees. Women were a little tougher, but a few got caught in the trap. "Oh, that's my mama," she answered breezily. "She taught me that a woman never swears. Washed my mouth out with soap once." Well, tried to anyway. Brenda hadn't come home for two days after that incident and there was never a repeat attempt.

"Uh-huh," Gabriel said doubtfully, and Brenda had to look out the window to cover a small smile. He was getting better at telling when she was being liberal with the truth. Not like Fritz, who--

No. She wasn't going to think about Fritz. After all, a man who tried to blackmail his girlfriend into living together by threatening to move to the east coast if-- Oh, heck, that wasn't fair either. They'd been dating for nearly a year at that point. She'd known it was time. It was just that she didn't particularly like living with anyone, which was one of the main reasons why most of her previous relationships had fallen apart once they got that far. Well, that and the fact that men turned into assholes once they were living with you.

Looking back, though, Fritz probably would have been different. She couldn't see him wanting her to cook and clean for him and she certainly couldn't see him hinting that it was time to quit her job. If nothing else, it was too expensive in LA for one government salary to support two people.

Unfortunately for them both, she'd been burned one too many times, and she just kept on dithering right up to the moment that Fritz accepted that position in Behavioral Sciences and went back to the east coast, leaving Brenda alone. Again.

In fact, about the only thing she'd done right in that whole situation was stand strong against Will's advances after Fritz left. Will had always enjoyed skirting or, more often, making an outright mockery of the rules, and he hadn't let the fact that he was Brenda's direct superior distract him from a very pointed and persistent pursuit. And he was so very sweet and funny and....

But no, it was a bad idea, a very bad idea. Why it was nearly as bad as if Brenda took up with Gabriel.

Now that was a dangerous line of thought. Will was a well-connected political animal; he might survive an affair with his subordinate. Brenda, who already had allegations of sexual misconduct in her past, would be thrown to the wolves. Probably by Will.

There, that was better. It was good to remember that Will had his bad side, just like everyone else.

"You okay, Chief?" Gabriel asked as he turned into the station's parking lot.

"Yes, why?" Brenda asked as casually as she could.

Gabriel shrugged. "Nothing, really. I just get nervous when you go quiet like that." He smirked a little as he put the car in park.

Brenda narrowed her eyes at him, but it was a mock glare. After the last year, it was nice, really nice, to know that her team was comfortable enough around her to tease. Well, tease her nicely. She had more than enough of the nasty stuff when she first moved to LA. "I was just thinking about the interrogation," she lied blithely as she stepped out of the car. Still, it was good to be reminded about the upcoming task. For the next hour or so, there was no room for anyone in Brenda's mind but Lucinda 'Black Widow' Scott.

ooo

Ignoring Buzz's indignant glare, Lieutenant Provenza settled into his usual seat in front of the monitor with a large bag of popcorn in his hand. This was definitely a popcorn moment: on the screen, Daniels (wearing one of her typical too-tight shirts and looking wickedly hot as usual) sat next to the Chief (wearing that black turtleneck dress with the grey jacket that she wore whenever she wanted to look stern) and the two of them were across from the black widow (who looked fifteen years younger than her actual age; Provenza could see asking the woman out, even if she was fifty).

Provenza heard the electronics room door open and called out as his fellow officers streamed in: "It's a smackdown between the ice-cold Bitch of Boston and the red-hot Southern Witch. I've got twenty on the Chief. Any takers?"

There were several snorts in response, and someone muttered, "Sucker's bet."

"Tell you what," Lieutenant Flynn said, and Provenza turned around just in time to see him remove the ubiquitous toothpick from his mouth. "I'll bet twenty that the Chief gets her to confess in under an hour."

Now it was Provenza's turn to snort. "Under thirty minutes is more like it." He smirked and held up a twenty. Flynn rolled his eyes but nodded.

Provenza grinned... until Gabriel spoke up, "I say she can do it under twenty." He held up his own twenty, only to hastily tuck it away when the door opened and Chief Pope stepped inside.

"Has she started?" he asked.

"Uh, no," Buzz said, sounding flustered even though he hadn't had anything to do with the pool that had been forming around him. Provenza smirked. Wimp.

"What's the pool up to?" Pope said casually.

Buzz's eyes got reeeeal wide. Provenza smirked again.

"Twenty to get in; everything between twenty minutes and an hour is taken," he said smugly.

Pope eyed the screen for a moment. "I'll take over an hour, then." Everyone turned to stare at him. "What? She has problems with older women. I think they remind her of her mother." Everyone continued to stare. He rolled his eyes. "Back to work, people."

Since sitting in the electronics room watching the Chief break a perp could barely be called work, everyone re-focused on the screen in front of them and hoped that Pope wouldn't notice they were all still there.

Suddenly the door to the electronics room burst open and Lieutenant Tao came in, out of breath and flustered. "Has she started yet?"

Provenza grunted a 'no'.

"I think she was waiting for some DNA results," Gabriel said. He pointed to the folder Tao was holding. "Are those--"

Unfortunately, Tao was already out the door. Then again, that undoubtedly meant the folder was containing the anticipated DNA results and the anticipating in the room ramped up to twenty. Provenza set his popcorn in his lap and leaned back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. "Aaaand action!"

ooo

In the end, it took four hours, making it the second longest interrogation of Brenda's life, outside of her work at the CIA. She was nearly shaking with exhaustion when she stepped out of the interview room, and didn't have nearly enough energy to shrug off Gabriel when he tucked a discreet hand under her elbow to help steady her. "Maybe I should take you home," he said, sounding worried.

"No, no," Brenda said, even though going home sounded like the best thing she'd heard all day. Interrogating a person was kind of like diffusing a bomb, only instead of facing mortal danger for herself she risked releasing a killer into the general public if she made a mistake. No surprise then that she spent every minute of her interviews high on adrenaline.

The resulting crash, however, was always unpleasant, even if she'd only been in the room for five minutes. Now, she felt half-dead, and it was barely noon.

"I think that's a good idea," Will said. Brenda blinked. She hadn't even noticed Chief Pope was there, possibly because of the blinding headache that had started pounding away at her brain. Maybe she should go home. "In fact," he added, "Why don't you all take the rest of the day off. You worked a lot of overtime on this case--" he winced as he said the word 'overtime' "--and the paperwork can wait till tomorrow."

"But--"

"That sounds great, Chief Pope," Gabriel said quickly. "Thanks."

And somehow, Brenda wasn't quite sure how, she found herself hustled down the elevator and back into Gabriel's car. "Are you sure you're all right?" Gabriel asked, sounding really worried now.

Brenda smiled a little. Poor, sweet, innocent Gabriel. He'd never had to see a real interrogation before, had never had to see her spend ten hours in the box, staring down a terrorist and sweating nearly as much as the criminal, shaking as her blood sugar crashed again and again but forced to hold up a good front, because if the terrorist ever saw past her facade to the all too human woman beneath then that was it, the game was over, and she would be sent unceremoniously back to the bench.

The CIA had known what to do for its interrogators -- there had always been candy just outside the interrogation room and bottles full of room temperature water that would be more readily absorbed into the system than ice cold water. Brenda had always gone for the candy first; she worked hard to keep her frame slender, but it meant she didn't have much in the way of reserves when her body was burning calories at an exponential rate. After seven years with the CIA, her body was well-trained to expect sweets at the end of every interrogation and she'd been fighting that habit ever since.

"I'm fine," she breathed, wishing that she'd thought to get something from the vending machine before Gabriel had pushed her into the elevator. "I just need some water. And sugar."

Gabriel, bless his heart, didn't say anything about her recent no-processed-sugar lifestyle change. Instead he reached over her leg to dig in the glove compartment. He came up with an open roll of lifesavers. "Start with this," he ordered, pushing it into her hand and closing the glove box. "I'll stop on the way for water."

"Thank you," Brenda said, removing the top candy and looking at it dubiously. It was fuzzy with dirt and lint. She discreetly tucked it into her bag and popped the next piece into her mouth. It was cherry and after nearly a month without sugar it tasted like heaven. She closed her eyes and held back a moan.

She was so lost in worshipping the sweetness on her tongue that she barely noticed that they were driving until Gabriel pulled to a stop. With a frown, she opened her eyes to see that they were in front of a drug store. "I'll be right back," Gabriel said, door already open. Brenda just smiled and waved him off while sucking on a new candy. Pineapple. Mmm.

Gabriel came back with a bottle of cold water and a king-sized bag of peanut M&M's. He also had a paper bag that held a couple of pairs of sunglasses. "It's LA," he said sheepishly. "We have sunshine 365 days a year."

"Thank you," Brenda said fondly, putting on one of the pairs of glasses and ignoring the way the tag hung down past her nose. Her headache immediately went down a couple of notches. "Thank you so much."

She cheerfully remained in her sugar zone until Gabriel pulled up in front of her house. "Thank you very much, Sergeant Gabriel," she said, opening her door. Before she could climb out of the car, however, Gabriel had hurried around to help her. "Really, this isn't necessary," she huffed as gentle hands were once again tucked under her arm.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, and proceeded to continue to hold her arm all the way up the sidewalk and stairs until Brenda found herself facing her front door.

She frowned at the familiar honey brown wood. "Well then, now that you've shown me to my door, I think you can go home."

"Mm-hm," he answered absently. "Maybe you should get out your key."

Okay, enough was enough. Brenda pulled back from Gabriel's hand and crossed her arms. "Sergeant Gabriel."

He held up his hands. "Look, Chief Pope asked me to take you home and make sure you were all right. I'm just following orders, I promise."

Brenda huffed. "Why that--" Gabriel coughed. "Oh, fine. You can come in for one minute. One. And then you can run along and tell Wi-- Chief Pope that I'm fine."

"Yes, ma'am. And thank you."

Brenda just made a noise of exasperation and began pawing through her purse for her keys. It took her longer than it should have to find them -- her argument with Gabriel had taxed what little energy she had left and she was starting to develop tunnel vision as everything between her and her bed faded into insignificance. By the time she got the door open, she couldn't care less that Gabriel followed her into the living room. Oh, except--

"Sergeant, could you feed Kitty, please? Thank you so much."

And with that, she walked back into her bedroom, kicked off her shoes, dropped her purse on the floor, and collapsed into bed.

ooo

Brenda woke up to the sound of gunshots in her living room.

Bolting upright, she fumbled for the gun in her purse. She'd just managed to check her safety when the sounds filtered further through her foggy brain and she realized that the noises were coming from her television. Which definitely hadn't been on when she'd gone to bed. Frowning, she lifted her weapon into position and carefully made her way down the hallway to her living room.

Only to promptly lower her gun and scowl. "What are you still doing here?"

Gabriel glanced over from the television, though his hands continued to run through the long, fluffy fur covering Kitty's stomach. Kitty's paws were splayed wantonly and he was purring loud enough to be heard over the television. Brenda turned her scowl to the cat. Kitty never let Brenda pet his stomach. "Sorry, Chief, but the way you passed out like that had me kind of worried. I thought I should stick around to make sure you were okay."

Brenda sighed and set her gun on the coffee table. "Have you eaten yet?" she asked, rubbing her hands through her hair. She still felt groggy, but now that the worst of her exhaustion was gone her stomach was making it very clear that a bag of M&M's wasn't nearly enough to constitute a reasonable lunch.

"Uh, no. I didn't really feel comfortable digging through your kitchen."

Brenda waved that off and asked, "Pizza or Chinese?"

"Pizza's fine. Thanks."

"Supreme okay?" Without waiting for an answer she went to the kitchen for the phone. And a diet Coke. She wasn't much for caffeine usually, but right now she really needed it. Even if it was...she glanced at a clock...8:30 at night.

Brenda stopped at stared at the clock. 8:30 at night? And Gabriel hadn't eaten anything yet? Bypassing the Coke for the time being, she went straight to the phone and ordered two supremes. Just in case.

By the time she returned to the living room, Kitty had turned into a purring puddle of pleasure on Gabriel's lap, his entire body limp under the sergeant's attentions. Apparently Gabriel had very good hands...and that wasn't a productive line of thinking, so Brenda pushed it aside and sat down in the armchair, leaving the sofa to Gabriel and the traitorous Kitty.

Brenda watched as Gabriel continued to seduce the cat, attempting to come up with a polite topic of conversation. It was proving surprisingly difficult -- Brenda knew how to deal with subordinates while celebrating the end of a case and with strangers in her living room, but subordinates in her living room, molesting her cat, were a different matter. All things considered, it wasn't proper for Gabriel to be sitting here at all, not with the way the sexual misconduct charges from Atlanta had been dredged back up by the LA newspapers just a few months ago. It didn't matter that the charges had been malicious lies on the part of her ex-husband, they were on her record and would follow her around for the rest of her life.

On the other hand, she couldn't let a hungry guest just leave. Mama would have a fit.

Finally, desperate for a topic, Brenda took advantage of the most obvious choice at hand: "Kitty sure does like you. You should have kept one of the kittens."

"That's a little more work than I was ready for," Gabriel answered. "A full grown cat, maybe, but a kitten? Especially with our hours?"

"Yeah," Brenda sighed. "It would make housebreaking it difficult." She stared at Kitty for a few seconds longer. "You know, I never really liked pets. If this one hadn't come with the house, I doubt I'd have a cat."

"You didn't have to keep her," Gabriel said dryly.

"Well, I was going to bring him to the shelter, but I never had time when they were open, and then he got pregnant--"

"You know, when a cat gets pregnant, folks usually refer to it as a she."

"Yes, but we thought he was a he for so long--" Her rant was cut off by the doorbell, saving her from thinking too hard about the fact that she'd said 'we'. As in 'me and Fritz'.

A frantic search through her purse turned up a little over half of the cost of the pizza and Gabriel chipped in the rest, ignoring Brenda's automatic, "You don't need to do that, you're the guest."

"Uninvited guest," he'd answered, taking the pizza while Brenda paid the man. "We pay our own way."

Brenda frowned at him, but what was done was done, so she gave it up to head to the kitchen for plates and drinks. Along the way she nearly tripped over Kitty, who was clearly sulking over having been displaced.

"This is good," Gabriel said around his first mouthful of pizza, even as he discreetly picked off a few of the more obvious olives from the remainder of his slice.

"Pizza's always good the first night," Brenda said, eating her own slice with relish. "Course it never reheats well."

"I usually just eat it cold," Gabriel answered with a shrug, already nearly finished with his first slice and reaching for his second. He'd clearly been very hungry.

"I wouldn't have guessed that," Brenda said, eyeing Gabriel's pristine (as always) clothing and expensive haircut. "I would have guessed that you'd be the type to heat it up in the oven, so it's as close to the original as you can get."

"I was that way before I started the academy," Gabriel admitted. "Don't have the time for it anymore."

Brenda just smiled in reply and took a second slice of her own. She was about halfway finished with it when Gabriel sat back, clearly done eating despite the fact that there were only two crusts left on his plate. "Are you done?" she asked, surprised. "There's plenty more."

"Oh no, I'm full," Gabriel answered.

Brenda eyed the crusts, nibbled at until there wasn't a hint of tomato or cheese remaining. Hm. Casually, she said, "I've noticed recently that when Lieutenant Tao passes around that bakery box -- you know, the one I'm not supposed to know about -- you haven't been partaking. Is that a show of solidarity? Or are you on a diet?" She couldn't help it; by the second question, her voice had shifted into interrogation mode: stern and confident, like she already knew the answer to her own questions.

Gabriel stared back at her. "I don't believe this."

"What?"

"You're interrogating me!"

"Wha- I am not."

"Yes, you are. Chief!"

"No, I'm-- well, okay, maybe I am, just a little." Gabriel crossed his arms and continued to stare. Brenda winced, just a little. "I'm sorry. But, it's a valid question!"

"Fine! So just ask me the question! You don't have to interrogate me."

"Well, fine!" Brenda took a deep breath and said evenly, "Most male police officers do their best to bulk up; I've never met one who dieted to stay so thin."

"It's not really a diet," Gabriel started. Now it was Brenda's turn to stare. "It's not, it's-- Look, you know that I'm planning to run for office someday, right?" Brenda nodded. "And we both know that I can't do any good unless I actually get elected." Brenda frowned at that, but nodded again. "Right so, well, look at me. I'm black and I have a background with the LAPD, both of which can work for and against me, but mostly against me. I'm neither wealthy nor well known and I have no big-name connections, both strikes against my getting elected. Frankly, the only thing I have going for me is the image I present. Fortunately, in LA image counts for a lot more than it does in most other places. So I run a lot. I eat right. I save my money for expensive suits and I keep my weight down so that can wear the same clothes year after year. All of which means that five or ten years from now, when I'm ready to run, I'll have a closet full of Armani, I'll have a pearly white smile, and I'll look damn good for the cameras." By the end of his speech, Gabriel's voice had gotten significantly louder and his arms were crossed defensively.

Brenda couldn't help it -- her lips were twitching. "Well if it helps, I think you look darn good now."

Gabriel's tense posture relaxed a fraction. "And would you vote for me?"

"In a heartbeat."

He smiled at that and lowered his arms. "That's just because you know me," he said, but he was still smiling.

Brenda shrugged. "If you can't get the people who know you to vote for you, you probably shouldn't be running for office. Besides, you have a lot more going for you than your looks." Oh, dear. She probably shouldn't have said that.

"Yeah? Like what?"

Well, she'd set herself up for this. "Well, you're charming, for one. Good with people. I understand that makes things a lot easier."

"It does," Gabriel said. "You should try it sometime."

"Wha-- I'll have you know that I've been told that I am very charming."

"You can be," Gabriel admitted. "The key is to do it for more than ten seconds at a time."

Brenda narrowed her eyes. "When investigating a murder, there's no time to waste making sure everyone's happy."

"Fair enough," Gabriel said, backing off so far that even his body settled further back on the sofa. Or maybe, considering how frequently his eyes landed on the pizza box, he was putting some distance between himself and temptation.

Brenda watched him for a moment. "You know," she commented, as she reached into the box for a third slice, "one thing a woman learns early in life is that sometimes you just need to splurge a little." With a dare in her eye, she pushed the box closer to her sergeant.

He held out for less than a second before leaning forward. "You're a bad influence, Chief, you know that, right?"

"So I've been told, many times," she said with a smile.

Conversation was easier after that; they ended up sharing their favorite splurge foods, talking about how boring chicken was unless it was fried, and commiserating over endless salads for lunch. From there they moved on to how their respective appearances impacted their work, and Brenda was intrigued at how well Gabriel had used his looks to his advantage. It wasn't a skill she'd associated with men before, but it made sense that it was a useful talent for anyone living in LA.

"Can I ask you something, Chief?" It was getting late, nearly midnight, and the pizza box had been entirely stripped of its contents. Brenda was feeling loose and lethargic and content in a way she hadn't felt since she'd left Atlanta.

"Of course," she said, letting her head loll against the back of her armchair. "Anything."

Gabriel looked equally comfortable, spread out on the couch, his shoes off and his tie loosened. She'd never seen him so relaxed before; it was a good look for him. "Well, I was just wondering -- why did you have Daniels in the interview with you today? Usually it's me, or Flynn or Provenza if I'm not around, or Sanchez if there's a gang member involved."

Brenda shrugged. "Daniels is an intelligent, stylish, attractive woman, everything that Lucinda Scott respects. Having her in the room made Scott take me more seriously."

"Hey, I'm intelligent, stylish, and attractive," Gabriel protested, though his mouth was quirked in a self-deprecating grin that glossed over his lack of modesty.

Brenda wished she could grin like that; it would make her life a lot easier. "Yes, but you're a man. Lucinda Scott has been manipulating men for so long that I think she views the entire sex as lower in intelligence."

"Huh."

"Plus, she probably would have thought you were gay."

Gabriel sat up at that. "What?"

"You're well-dressed, articulate, and stylish and Boston's a pretty traditional city. With Lucinda's conservative background, it's a safe bet that she'd be jumping to conclusions."

"Right," Gabriel said, sounding a little unsettled. Brenda would bet a month's paycheck that he'd never been out east before. Probably he hadn't even been outside the state of California. "But you know I'm not gay, right?"

Brenda smiled up at the ceiling, warmed by the question. She didn't think it was her imagination that he was emphasizing this point for a reason. "I know," she answered softly.

They shared a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Gabriel asked, "So you've been to Boston?"

"I worked in DC and Virginia for a nearly a decade. Boston isn't too far from there."

"Did you go often?"

"Two or three times a year. My husband's family lived there." Oh, hell. She definitely hadn't meant to say that. The late hour, full stomach, and good company were playing havoc on her internal censor. "Ex-husband," she clarified quickly.

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. "I didn't know you were married, Chief."

"It wasn't one of my better choices," Brenda said wryly. She thought about explaining that Kyle, her ex, had been the one to start that whole sexual misconduct rumor in Atlanta, making an uglier mess of an already ugly divorce. In the end, she decided that she'd already revealed more than enough of her personal business for one night.

Gabriel, demonstrating some of those people skills that made him so popular at the station, casually changed the subject. "I've never been to Boston myself. Never even been outside of California, except for a trip to Las Vegas when I graduated from high school."

Brenda smirked to herself.

"I always wanted to travel," he added, "But there just didn't seem to be time. From high school I went to college, from college to the academy, from the academy into the force, and graduate school while on the force. And I worked my way through most of my schooling, so that took up all of my vacations."

"Sounds like a lot of work," Brenda said, her voice soft with exhaustion.

"It was," Gabriel answered, sounding equally tired. "But it was worth it."

They sat there silently for a few more minutes before Gabriel sighed and said in a reluctant voice, "It's getting late; I should probably go."

Brenda's first instinct was to protest that it really wasn't that late, but a glance at the clock showed that it was well after one and the whole squad had a long day of paperwork to look forward to tomor-- today. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?" she asked instead. "You're welcome to the couch if you want." As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. If it had been Provenza or Daniels it wouldn't have been a problem, but Gabriel was a whole other issue. Frankly, Brenda couldn't imagine getting a wink of sleep if she knew Gabriel was sleeping just a few feet away.

Fortunately, Gabriel shook his head. "I'll be fine. Besides, I'd rather not sleep in this suit," he added wryly, glancing down at his already hopelessly wrinkled pants.

Brenda's own dress was nearly as bad. "Well, that's what dry cleaners are for," she offered.

Gabriel just made an amused noise and looked around for his jacket. Once he had it in one hand, Brenda thrust the second pizza box in his direction. "Here. You paid for it, you should get to keep it."

"No, I--"

"I don't really like leftover pizza, anyway." It was sort of true. She certainly didn't like it as much as when it was fresh.

"Oh, well then... if you're sure." Brenda pushed the box forward a bit and Gabriel finally took it. "Thanks."

"No, thank you," Brenda said with a smile. They stood awkwardly for a second, before Brenda realized that the next step was hers. Leading Gabriel to the door, she added, "Thank you very much for making sure I got home okay and keeping an eye on me."

"Hey, thank you for not kicking me out," he said wryly as she opened the door.

There was another awkward pause, where they would have kissed if this had been a date. "Well, goodnight then," Gabriel said, stepping onto the porch.

"Night," Brenda answered, leaning on the doorframe just a bit.

He offered her one last small wave and turned to walk away. Brenda watched him go, though she knew she shouldn't. It turned out for the best, however, as Gabriel paused at his car and turned back. "Should I pick you up tomorrow at the usual time?"

"Yes, thank you," she called back, giving him a little wave of her own.

Gabriel waved back, again, then climbed into his car.

And if Brenda stayed in the door to watch him drive away, it was no one's business but her own.

ooo

The next morning Brenda woke up with a delightful feeling of anticipation. Last night had easily been the best she'd had since Fritz left and she couldn't wait to see Gabriel again, even if they talked about nothing but work. It was just nice to know that she had a friend in LA, something that she hadn't even realized that she was missing until Fritz had gone back east.

Brenda rolled out of bed with a sigh and headed for the shower. It was mostly her own fault, she knew. She'd started dating Fritz just a few days after her initial arrival in LA and between that and trying to survive Taylor's endless sabotage attempts during her first year on the job, Brenda hadn't had time to go out and meet anyone. By the time her schedule had been a little less crazy, she'd gotten used to spending all of her free time with Fritz. At the time it had been nice. Once Fritz was gone, however, it had been very lonely.

Which just made last night with Gabriel that much more valuable. Unfortunately, there would always be a barrier between them, at least as long as Brenda was Gabriel's supervisor. Brenda regretted that, even as she knew how important it was to keep a certain distance from her subordinates. That distance meant that last night had been a mistake, no matter how wonderful it had been.

Well, she couldn't undo last night, even if she wanted to. What she could do was keep it from happening again. It was time for Brenda Leigh Johnson to start exploring this city she'd been living in, time to start going out and meeting new people. There were hundreds of restaurants, clubs, and theaters in this town. She was sure to find something to enjoy.

Brenda sighed again and turned off her shower. Honestly, the whole mess sounded like a whole lot of work. And, more importantly, her anticipation for Gabriel's arrival hadn't diminished in the least.

It was going to be a long day.

ooo

The ride to the station went surprisingly well. Gabriel's smile as he opened the car door for Brenda might have been just a little broader than usual, but they spent the entire drive discussing the case, namely Lucinda Scott's chances for getting the death penalty. Brenda hadn't offered Lucinda any kind of deal when getting the confession, so the death penalty seemed likely. Though, as Brenda pointed out, any smart defense lawyer would give Lucinda a reverse make-over, turning a poised serial killer into a sweet-looking granny. Most juries weren't going to recommend that grandma get the needle.

They were still arguing the point when they walked in to the already crowded murder room. Brenda was pleased to see that everyone had already started on their usual paperwork assignments; Priority Homicide's paperwork had been a bit sloppy before she had been brought on board, and she'd spent much of that miserable first year impressing on her people how important it was to dot every i and cross every t. After all, when a defense lawyer went over their cases, the paperwork was the only evidence the squad had that everything they did was legal and aboveboard. Considering the squad's reputation before Brenda was brought in, they needed to be even more meticulous than was required under the law.

Gabriel went off to fill out his own stack of forms, while Brenda retreated to her office to start her report on her interrogation, and to brood. She'd made good progress on both when Will called, asking her to come to his office. Brenda frowned at the phone. This had better not be another barely-cloaked dinner invitation; there was a difference between persistence and harassment and Will was starting to get too close to the wrong side of that line.

Funny how she hadn't thought of that until last night.

Just outside of Will's office, Brenda took a moment to straighten her jacket and put on her best smile. The latter didn't do a bit of good, as it dropped off her face the moment she opened the door. "Fritz?"

Fritz stood up next to Will in front of the desk. "Hello, Brenda."

Her smile came back in force. "Fritz, what are you doing here?"

He smiled back. "To see you, actually."

Brenda felt her heart pumping wildly in her chest. He came back!

"It seems the FBI wants to ask us a favor," Will cut in.

Brenda's smile faltered. "Oh. Um, what kind of favor?"

Fritz smiled again, but now that Brenda was thinking with her brain, rather than her heart, she could see the smile was brittle and forced. "We need you to interrogate someone."

"Interrogate someone," Brenda repeated slowly. "You need me to interrogate someone." She crossed her arms. "What about the FBI's interrogators?"

Fritz looked a little uncomfortable at that. "This is going to be a tough one, Brenda. The evidence is...not tainted, but there will be questions about it. We need someone to handle the interview with the prime suspect, someone who can get a confession, an iron-clad one. Plus, previous interviews by our on-site agent...haven't gone well."

Brenda just stared at him. He sighed. "Fine, we need the best. We need a closer."

She considered that for a second, but decided that he'd groveled enough so she turned to Will. "Chief Pope? What do you think?"

He smiled at her. "The FBI has made us a very generous offer to compensate us for your time." She raised her eyebrows and he quickly added, "But, of course, the final decision is yours."

"I'll need more information before I can make a decision." She turned to Fritz and smiled sweetly. "Agent Howard?"

He sighed and held out a folder. She took it as he said, "The victim was a high school girl named Laura Palmer. She was raped and murdered a little over a week ago in Twin Peaks, Washington."

Brenda frowned as she flipped through the folder. "Why was the FBI called in?"

"We were first called in because another girl was abducted with Laura. She escaped and crossed state lines before she was recovered. However, there is also evidence that Laura was killed by someone who murdered another woman a year ago. It may be just a coincidence -- Laura was apparently involved in some nasty stuff -- but we want to be sure."

Brenda absorbed that for a minute, taking the opportunity to scan the lead agent's notes. On day three, there was a notation that read, "Dr. Lawrence Jacoby - struck but not broken, Leo Johnson - bottle shattered". Next to that cryptic note was written in all capital letters 'TIBET'. Brenda blinked. "Tibet? What does that mean?"

Fritz nodded. "That's why I'm here, actually."

"Because of Tibet?"

"More of because what Tibet represents." He hesitated so long that Brenda guessed, "Buddhism?"

"No," he sighed. "Okay, this is going to sound a little strange, but just hear me out." Brenda raised her eyebrows, but nodded. "Dale Cooper is the SAC for this case. He believes that--" here Fritz took a deep breath, and Brenda and Will exchanged a glance. When Fritz spoke again, he did so in a rush, as if trying to get everything out as quickly as possible, "--believes that he has a special ability to determine key aspects of a case by the accuracy of his throwing arm."

Brenda's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

Fritz sighed again. "You heard me."

"And what does Tibet have to do with this?" Will asked.

"His awareness of his special ability came during a dream he had of Tibet."

Brenda and Will exchanged another glance, this one deeply tinged in disbelief. "And this Agent Cooper still works for the FBI?" Will asked, for the both of them.

Fritz shrugged. "There's not much we can do -- he closes his cases with solid evidence. He just uses the Tibet technique to narrow his search. And, well, he's always right." Upon another disbelieving stare he shrugged again.

"Well, if he's always right, why is the FBI asking me to come in on this case?" Brenda asked, tossing the file aside and planting her hands on her hips.

Fritz eyed those hands before sitting down at the conference table. Brenda hesitated a moment, but joined him and Will did the same. "Look," Fritz said, leaning forward and speaking low. "The bureau recognizes that Agent Cooper is a problem. It's one of the reasons why he keeps getting sent out to remote locales like Twin Peaks. It's one of the reasons why he has his own secretary to filter everything he sends in into something acceptable. But the fact is, the man has one of the highest closure rates in the FBI, and his cases nearly always result in a conviction."

"He sounds as perfect as peach pie," Brenda said. "Which still doesn't explain why the FBI needs me."

"I'm getting to that." Fritz started to lean in even further, but caught himself and sat back upright with a slight frown before he continued. "The primary reason why Agent Cooper's unusual methods haven't been a problem before now is that he's done them in secret. Since no one saw him go out into the woods and throw stones, no one could testify as to his methods."

"So I'm guessing someone in Twin Peaks saw your good agent in action."

"The entire Twin Peaks police department," Fritz admitted. "Including the receptionist."

"Oh, good Lord."

"He's also been impeding an investigation into an assault by the sheriff against a federal agent. And he's been talking about cashing in his retirement fund to buy land in Twin Peaks."

"Well, it sounds like his objectivity has gone right out the window," Brenda observed, opening the file again.

"Exactly," Fritz said. "And then there's what happened yesterday."

What happened yesterday? Brenda flipped to the back of the file and her eyes opened wide as she read. "Oh my God."

"Yeah," Fritz said, sounding weary. "So will you come?"

Brenda sighed. "I don't know. I'm going to have to re-interview everyone connected with the victim. Well, everyone still alive and not in a coma, that is." She flipped through a few sheets. "Which doesn't look like a long list, but it'll probably get longer once we figure out who killed, assaulted, and/or shot at all of the suspects." She looked at Will. "I'm going to need Sergeant Gabriel and Lieutenants Flynn and Provenza."

"Forget it," Will said immediately. "You can have Gabriel, but no one else." Brenda raised her eyebrows. "No," he said emphatically. "Priority Homicide isn't your personal recruitment center."

"You said I could allocate my resources any way I see fit," Brenda shot back.

"And you can, as long as you're allocating them within the city of Los Angeles." He turned to Fritz. "When are you leaving?"

Fritz glanced at Brenda, who was glowering, before answering, "There's a flight to Spokane that leaves in three hours."

"Fine. Brenda, go fill your team in on what's going on and then you and Gabriel should go home to pack. In the meantime, Agent Howard, you and I have a few details to work out."

As Brenda stalked out the door, she distinctly heard Will say, "Now, about the compensation for Sergeant Gabriel's assistance on this case..."

ooo

Priority Homicide took the news as well as might be expected.

"Aw, crap. You mean we gotta work for Taylor? Again?" Provenza griped.

"Am I going to have to go back to SID?" Tao asked, considerably more politely, but with a similar level of enthusiasm.

"Homeland Security's been pushing for another training," Daniels sighed.

"Okay, first of all, no one is going anywhere," Brenda said loudly. "After all, you still have the paperwork for the Lucinda Scott case to finish up."

Glances were exchanged among her team. Suddenly there was a great rustle of paper as folders and neatly typed reports were unceremoniously shoved to the backs of desk drawers and underneath desktop calendars.

"Paperwork's a pain, Chief, but that's only going to keep Taylor off our backs for so long," Flynn said, dumping his own report into the trash.

"Well, you're just going to have to stretch it out somehow," Brenda said. She glanced behind her quickly before moving deeper into the murder room. "There is a possibility I might need ya'll on this case. Entirely off the record, of course, so if anyone would like to finish their paperwork early and report to Commander Taylor, I wouldn't hold it against you."

More glances, followed by a few smirks. Flynn grinned around his toothpick, but it was Provenza who answered for the group: "Off the record? Sounds like fun."

Brenda smiled back. God, she loved her team.

ooo

Getting tickets this close to take-off was a risky proposition, so Brenda wasn't surprised that they didn't manage to get three seats in the same row. She was surprised when Fritz took the single seat in the front of the plane, letting Brenda and Gabriel have the pair of seats next to one of the rear windows.

"Discretion is the better part of valor?" Gabriel suggested as Fritz boarded the plane.

Brenda just hmm'd in response and changed the subject. "So this is your first time out of state."

"Yep. Except for that trip to Las Vegas, but that doesn't really count."

"Did you fly to Vegas?"

"Naw. Some buddies of mine decided they wanted to go on a road trip before they went off to college. I just came along for the ride."

"So that means this is your first time on an airplane."

"Uh, yeah." He looked sheepish as he added, "I'm trying not to think about that at the moment."

Brenda promptly started digging around in her voluminous purse. She'd had Gabriel stop at a drug store on his way to drop her off and she knew she'd remembered to put the bag... ah, here it was. "Here, try one of these," she said, offering him the Dramamine.

He looked at it dubiously. "I don't really take many drugs, even OTC ones."

"Trust me," Brenda said. "You won't regret it."

Gabriel still didn't look convinced, but he swallowed the pill down with a few gulps of his diet soda. Brenda winced and considered telling him that he should slow down unless he wanted to experience an airplane bathroom first hand, but decided that she'd done enough mothering for one day. Instead, she pulled out the case file. "Ready to go over the details?"

"Sounds good," Gabriel said, sounding relieved.

Brenda smiled and started to read the file to him. It would've been helpful to have a second copy, but Brenda had needed the copy Fritz had provided for something else and she hadn't had time to make a third.

By the time they had boarded the plane, found their seats, and stowed their luggage (Brenda kept the file in hand), Gabriel had been reduced to repeating regularly, "Say that again" and "You have got to be kidding me."

He was frowning as she closed the file. "Okay, Chief, maybe I'm missing something, but it sounds to me like they got the killer."

"Maybe," Brenda said, tucking the file into the seat pouch in front of Gabriel. Leaning back in her seat, she sighed as she added, "But I'd feel a lot better if Leo Johnson's guilt was supported by more than the testimony of a man who was drunk, unconscious, and most importantly, twenty miles away from the crime scene when the murder occurred. And I'd really like to know why Mr. Johnson was shot before he could speak to the FBI. Finally, if Mr. Johnson was the killer and was shot early in the evening, who made the attempt on Agent Cooper's life several hours later, and why?"

"That's a good point." Gabriel might have added something more, but he was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn. "Oh, man, sorry about that. I guess I'm more tired than I thought."

"That's the Dramamine," Brenda offered sweetly, unbuckling her seatbelt so she could raid the luggage bin for a pillow. She handed over the cheap, felt-covered wad of cotton with a smile. "Knocks you right out. Makes the flight go by a lot faster, I promise."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at her, but he couldn't quite cover another yawn so, with a glare, he stuffed the pillow between his head and the side of the plane and closed his eyes. By the time they were taxing for takeoff, he was asleep.

As soon as they leveled off, Brenda dug through her purse for a notepad and pen. Thanks to her CIA-trained memory and the presence of her sergeant, she normally didn't have to bother with notes. Unfortunately, there was going to be a lot of scrutiny on this case and it would be best for everyone if she created a paper trail for her thought processes. And the surest way to ensure a solid conviction? Assume the jury would have the collective IQ of a turnip.

With that in mind, on the top of the page, she wrote Interviews to Schedule.

Underneath, she wrote Name (relationship to victim) -- Notes.

She debated a moment over who to list first, but really there was only one reasonable option. She'd just have to hope that he was conscious. Special Agent Dale Cooper (FBI agent investigating victim's murder) -- currently in hospital recovering from gunshot wound; discover if there is anything missing from the official file.

Next she would have listed the prime suspect, but he was currently in a coma. Then again...turnips. Leo Johnson (had sex with victim the night she died) -- Prime suspect in Laura Palmer's murder, shot in his home last night, in coma .

Which led to Shelley Johnson (Leo Johnson's wife) -- Maybe LJ told her something before he was killed?.

Moving from suspects to witnesses to family and friends, Brenda came up with a rather longer list of interviews than she'd expected:

Name (relationship to victim) -- Notes
-Special Agent Dale Cooper (FBI agent investigating victim's murder) -- currently in hospital recovering from gunshot wound; discover if there is anything missing from the official file

- Leo Johnson (had sex with victim the night she died) -- Prime suspect in Laura Palmer's murder, shot in his home last night, in coma

-Jacques Renault (also had sex with the victim the night she died) -- Primary witness against Johnson; worked as a dealer at One Eyed Jacks; killed last night

- Shelley Johnson (Leo Johnson's wife) -- Maybe LJ told her something before he was shot? Also, only 17, so possibly knew and/or was friends with Laura.

-Bobby Briggs (Laura's official boyfriend, in same high school class) -- possibly connected to Leo Johnson

-James Hurley (Laura's secret boyfriend, in same high school class) -- was with Laura the night she died. Currently in jail for suspicion of drug dealing

-Donna Hayward (Laura's best friend, in same high school class)

-Dr. Lawrence Jacoby (psychiatrist Laura was secretly seeing)

-Leland and Sarah Palmer (Laura's parents) -- had no idea what kind of trouble Laura might have been in?

-Ronette Pulaski (abducted with Laura) -- still traumatized and not speaking; was a couple of years older than Laura -- possibly was the one to get Laura involved in drugs and prostitution?

Brenda frowned at the list. It was a long list, and likely to get longer once she actually started talking to people. Damn. She should've packed a second suitcase.

She was still contemplating her upcoming interviews when Fritz suddenly dropped into the empty seat next to her. She raised her eyebrows at him. "I was stuck between a woman hunting for her fifth husband and a guy wanting advice for his bible study lesson for next week," he said sheepishly. "And I figured, since this seat was open, we might as well discuss the case." He leaned forward to look around Brenda. "Sergeant Gabriel?"

Brenda sighed. "I gave him a Dramamine. He should be waking up soon." She passed over the interview list.

Fritz skimmed over the list and whistled. "This is going to take some time." He passed the list back. "The Pope's not going to be happy."

"I know." Brenda leaned back in her seat. "This case is sloppy, Fritz, really sloppy. The entire case hangs on the confession of a man who wasn't even at the murder scene. Laura Palmer had sex with three men the night she was killed, but no one's bothered to compare the suspects' DNA to the samples recovered from her body and no one has any idea who the third man might be. And now the principle witness is dead, the man I'm supposed to interrogate is in a coma, the special agent in charge of the case has been shot, several potential witnesses have been assaulted, and there's still no hard evidence as to who actually killed Laura Palmer."

Fritz gave a sigh of his own. "I know."

Brenda turned her head to look at him. "So why am I here, Fritz? This isn't just an interrogation, this is a full investigation. Why didn't the FBI send in its own team of investigators?"

"Honestly?"

"Of course."

"Because it's a clusterfuck and no one in the Bureau wants to touch it," Fritz said wearily. "Because there're gangs out there killing a dozen people a week and that takes priority. Because the national media doesn't care about one dead girl from Twin Peaks, so there's no outside pressure. Because if you can't solve this case then it's not the Bureau's fault when it goes cold."

Brenda took that all in. "And if I do solve the case?"

Fritz shrugged. "You've been making some big arrests in LA, Brenda. You've caught the attention of some of the higher ups." He glanced over at her. "Ever consider working for the FBI?"

"Is that what this is?" Brenda snapped. "Another recruitment attempt?"

"Another recr-- are you saying the FBI already offered you a job?"

Whoops. Maybe she shouldn't have said that. Too late to take it back, unfortunately. "Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Okay, fine, they offered me a position a few months ago."

"Not in LA," Fritz said. "Those guys hate you."

Even more now that Fritz had gone back east, taking away Brenda's only ally in the LA field office. She didn't say that out loud, of course. "We didn't get that far in the discussion."

Fritz opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before narrowing his eyes. "Are you and Will dating again?"

Brenda's eyes got huge and she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Gabriel was still sleeping before turning back and hissing, "Fritz!"

Fritz hissed right back. "Are. You. Dating. Will. Again?"

"He is my boss," Brenda grit out. "And married."

"He doesn't seem to care that he's your boss. And he's getting a divorce."

"What?" Brenda yelped. She winced and glanced again at Gabriel. "What do you mean he's getting a divorce?" she hissed at Fritz.

"I can't believe you don't know this," Fritz shot back. "I knew it and I live in Washington."

Brenda fell back in her seat. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. He didn't tell you, clearly."

"No." Brenda sighed. "He's been asking me out. I haven't said yes."

Fritz's whole body relaxed. "When you didn't want to move in with me, I thought it might be because you were still interested in Will," he admitted.

Brenda opened her mouth to answer, but stopped as she heard noise behind her. She looked over her shoulder to see Gabriel blinking back blearily.

Swallowing an oath, Brenda turned back to Fritz and mouthed: 'we'll talk about this later.' He nodded as she turned back to her sergeant. "Welcome back, Sergeant. Have a good sleep?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. He was apparently awake enough to toss in a glare.

She smiled back sweetly. "I'm happy to hear it. We have a lot of interviews to schedule."

Gabriel groaned, but took the file she handed him. The rest of the flight was spent going over the case and Brenda was relieved to note that, without the rest of priority homicide to egg the two men on, Gabriel and Fritz worked together quite well. Maybe this case wouldn't be so bad.

It was a two hour drive from Spokane to Twin Peaks. They stopped halfway to eat dinner at a small inn that had a big sign out front that read 'Best Cherry Pie in Fifty States!" So, of course, Brenda had to try a piece.

"Oh my goodness," she moaned as she ate her first bite. The waitress grinned. "This is the best pie I've ever eaten."

"People come from all around to try it," the waitress said, still grinning as she left for the next table.

Brenda opened her eyes to scoop up another bite, only to find Fritz and Gabriel staring at her pie longingly. If she'd been with either man alone, she would have been happy -- well, willing -- to share, but since there were two of them, she just pulled her plate a little closer and closed her eyes as she took another bite.

She opened them to find Fritz ordering a slice of the pie. Gabriel shook his head at the waitress's offer to bring him one and said, "I couldn't eat a whole slice" as he took another pull on his unsweetened coffee.

That, of course, was code for "I shouldn't eat a whole slice", and Brenda wrinkled her nose at him. He lifted his shoulders in response and shot a longing glance at her dessert. Brenda glanced at Fritz, who was completely focused on his own pie, sighed, and pushed over the remains of her dessert to Gabriel. "Here," she said reluctantly. "You should at least try it."

"Are you sure?" Gabriel answered, already reaching for the plate.

"I couldn't eat another bite," Brenda lied sadly.

Then she had a thought and perked right back up as the waitress came to the table with the check. "Excuse me," she said. "Could I have a piece of pie to go?"

Fritz and Gabriel both looked at her, their mouths full. "What?" she said innocently. "I might want a midnight snack."

"That's a good idea," Fritz said, swallowing quickly. "I'll take a slice to go, too."

"Me, too," added Gabriel, scraping his plate to chase the last of the pie crumbs.

Brenda glanced down to hide a smile.

ooo

The drive through northeast Washington was ridiculously picturesque, with tall mountains carpeted by majestic evergreens. Fritz drove, with Brenda sitting shotgun and reading the file. A quick glance in the back seat revealed Gabriel staring out his window in poorly-concealed awe. Brenda smothered a grin and went back to reading.

They went to the hospital first, where they found Sheriff Harry S. Truman ("Really?" Gabriel asked. Brenda shot him a look. "Uh, never mind.") and Doctor Hayward (Donna Hayward's father) watching as Agent Cooper slowly, painfully attempted to pull on a shirt. "What do you think you're doing?" Fritz asked as Brenda and Gabriel stood back and stared in disbelief. Cooper had a huge bandage covering half of his abdomen, right over his gut.

"When the will is invoked, the recuperative powers of the physical body are extraordinary," the doctor said dryly.

"I bet he has you reading up on Tibet, too," Fritz said sarcastically. To Agent Cooper, he snapped, "Get back in bed."

"I can't," he said. "I have a murder to solve."

"That's what we're here for," Fritz said. The sheriff, the doctor, and Cooper all stared at Fritz. Brenda could just imagine how hard Fritz was trying not to roll his eyes. In an overly calm voice, he said, "The FBI doesn't expect its agents to work less than a day after getting shot in the stomach."

"Well, actually it was a little to the right--"

Fritz interrupted the doctor. "This is Brenda Leigh Johnson and David Gabriel. They will be assisting me on this case."

Brenda put on her most winning smile. "Very nice to meet ya'll."

Like a charm, her Southern drawl broke the tension in the room. The doctor smiled first, coming forward to take her hand in both of his. "Very nice to meet you, Ms. Johnson."

By the time the introductions were over, everyone was smiling but Agent Cooper, and even he had agreed to go back to bed. "Did you come up Highway 2?" he asked as the doctor got him settled.

"We sure did," Brenda said with a smile. "Stopped at this quaint little inn for lunch."

"The Lamplighter Inn," Cooper said, smiling at last. "Best cherry pie I've ever eaten."

"Wasn't it though?" Brenda leaned in. "I got an extra slice for tonight."

"I don't blame you -- there's nothing as good as a great slice of cherry pie."

"Isn't that the truth," Brenda drawled. She perched on the edge of his bed and ramped up her accent to eleven. "Would you mind if I asked you a question or two?"

"Not at all," Agent Cooper said. "It's always best to jump right in there."

"Why, thank you," Brenda said. "First, are you aware of everything that happened last night?"

"Aside from me getting shot?"

"Yes," Brenda said, "aside from you getting shot."

"I'm afraid not. Though I did have a vision."

"Really?" Sheriff Truman said eagerly. He came closer to the bed. "Do you think it's about the case?"

"I'm not sure, but as it looks like I might be stuck here for a while--" Cooper turned to flash another smile at Brenda, who smiled just a bit bigger and tilted her head in acknowledgement "--I might need you to check on a few things for me. Can you do that?" As he spoke, he lifted his right index finger next to his right eyebrow and carefully brushed it down his temple to his cheekbone.

"Sure thing, Agent Cooper," Truman said, making the same gesture.

Brenda stifled a sigh. Great. The man had been here for less than a week and he already knew the local secret handshake. Add that to the fact that the only woman in the sheriff's office was the receptionist and the only women in the hospital were nurses, and you had came up with one town-sized boys' club. They might as well paint 'no girls allowed' on the Twin Peaks welcome sign.

Unfortunately, there was no way for her to effectively investigate this murder without being the one to ask the questions, so it was time to fall back on a woman's greatest advantage in the face of unrelenting misogyny: underestimation.

Pulling off her glasses and lifting a hand to muss up her hair a bit, Brenda let her smile slip into a confused moue as she poked through her purse. "Oh my," she said. "I can't seem to find the file and so much happened last night..."

"That's all right," Truman said, his eyes sliding right over her as he smirked slightly in Fritz's direction. Brenda hoped like hell that Fritz was smirking back. "Lucy?"

The sheriff's receptionist, a pretty woman with bad hair, came up and read quickly from a sheet of paper in her hand: "Leo Johnson was shot. Jacques Renault was strangled. The mill burned. Shelly and Pete got smoke inhalation. Catherine and Josie are missing. Nadine is in a coma from taking sleeping pills."

"Good lord," Brenda said, hand to her chest. "And I thought Atlanta was dangerous!"

"I promise you, ma'am, this isn't a normal night in Twin Peaks," Truman said soothingly.

"I certainly hope not. My, my." Brenda considered fanning herself, but decided that would be on the other side of the fine line between playing for an audience and hamming it up. Instead she pulled out the case file. "Though I am just a bit confused. Could you help me? Who are Nadine and Josie and Catherine and Pete?"

"Nadine's Big Ed's husband," Lucy offered.

Of course she was. What would a small town be without a Big Ed?

"Ed Hurley," Truman added. "He's James Hurley's uncle."

That was a different story, since James Hurley was Laura's secret boyfriend. Another name for the interview list. "And the others?" Brenda asked, flipping through the pages of the file as if desperately looking for names.

"Josie Packard owns the Packard Saw Mill since her husband Andy passed away last year," Truman answered, his voice considerably softer than it was before. Interesting. His voice hardened again when he added, "Catherine is Andy's sister. She was running the mill until recently."

"And Pete?"

"Catherine's husband."

Brenda closed the folder and let herself look lost. "Do they have any connection with Laura Palmer, Leo Johnson, or Jacques Renault?"

"We have evidence that Leo Johnson might have been the one to burn down part of the saw mill."

Oh, heck. Wasn't there anyone in this town not involved with this case? "I'll have to speak with them, of course," Brenda said in her best flustered voice. "But maybe we could find a hotel first? It's been a long day and it's barely the afternoon!"

"She doesn't fly well," Fritz said behind her. "All that Dramamine." Brenda looked over her shoulder to glare at him. He smiled back innocently.

"There's always the Great Northern," Truman said.

"That's where I'm staying," Cooper said brightly. "They have fantastic coffee."

"Sounds perfect," Brenda said, equally brightly.

She hurried through the goodbyes. Her face hurt from smiling so much.

ooo

"Wow," Gabriel said as they drove up a steep rise to the Great Northern Hotel. "It's...big."

"That's got to be at least three hundred rooms," Fritz said, peering up through his windshield.

"Apparently Twin Peaks is more of a tourist destination than I would've guessed," Brenda said.

"Look at the waterfall," Gabriel breathed.

Brenda looked over at the white water thundering over the edge of a hundred foot cliff lined with elegant firs. "That's lovely," she admitted.

They silently took in the scenery as they made it the rest of the way. "You know," Brenda said as she climbed out of the car. "I can imagine coming here for a vacation."

Then they got to the front door. With its door handles made out of deer antlers. "Forget I ever said that."

Gabriel grinned as he opened the door for everyone.

ooo

Brenda looked around the room, taking in the honey-brown pine walls (and the honey-brown floor and the honey-brown ceiling), the stuffed ducks in the corner, the antlers hanging up over the bed (which was framed with logs), and, the most awful, a gun rack made out of a pair of deer hooves. "Well, it's...rustic."

"Very," Fritz said dryly.

"At least the rates are reasonable?" Gabriel offered.

"More importantly, it's the only hotel in town," Fritz said.

"Well, come on in and grab a seat and...try not to think about what you're sitting on," Brenda ordered, choosing the bed since there was no obvious sign that it had been made from dead animals. "We need to talk strategy."

Gabriel dumped the bags he was carrying, Brenda's and his own, next to the door and sat in the overstuffed armchair next to the bed. Fritz, faced with sitting on the bed with Brenda or leaning on the dresser, chose the dresser. Brenda smothered a wince. "Okay, so it's clear that plan A isn't going to work," Fritz said.

Plan A had been for Brenda to be in charge of the investigation. "I think you're right," Brenda admitted. "So we're going with Plan B: Obviously, we're still consultants, but now Fritz is my superior and evaluating me based on my performance. Gabriel's my junior partner."

"So business as usual," Gabriel said. "Except Fritz is filling in for Chief Pope."

Brenda and Fritz exchanged a quick glance. "Let's not think about it quite like that," Fritz suggested.

Gabriel looked like he was trying really hard not to grin.

Brenda figured now was a good time to change the subject. "What did you think about the finger thing Cooper and the sheriff did?"

"Secret handshake," Gabriel said. "Maybe some sort of sign between the two of them?"

"Seven days is awfully fast for their relationship to get to secret signs," Fritz pointed out.

"Unless they're up to something they shouldn't be," Brenda suggested.

"Dale Cooper is not a criminal," Fritz said flatly.

"Maybe they're dating," Gabriel offered. "In a town like this, secret signs are probably the way to go if you're gay."

"Going back to what I said about seven days being awfully fast for--"

"Right, right, right," Brenda interrupted. "So for now we'll just keep the secret gesture in mind. If you see anyone else doing it, let me know." Brenda glanced at the clock on her nightstand (and shuddered; the nightstand was primarily composed of a deer leg) -- it was getting late and they had a lot to do today. "Okay, Fritz, I need you to go to the station and start spreading rumors about me. It'd be really nice if you could imply that I'm incompetent. Oh, and can you get me copies of the autopsy report and a DNA sample from the rape kit? And if you have the chance, can you find out why the DNA profiles haven't been run yet? And possibly samples of Jacques Renault and Leo Johnson's DNA for comparison?" By this point Fritz was wincing, but it wasn't like Brenda could get the information herself. "Thank you so much."

Fritz just shook his head. "What are you going to be doing?"

"Everything else," Brenda said with a sigh. She really missed her team. "We might as well start with the parents." She pulled out her temporary FBI identification and frowned. The word 'temporary' was significantly more visible than 'FBI'. "But first, I need to make a call."

"I'll leave you to it," Fritz said, hefting his duffle bag a little higher on his shoulder. He hadn't even bothered to set it down. "Give me a call when you're done with the Palmers."

"Will do," Brenda said brightly, already dialing her cell phone. She put it to her ear as Fritz opened the door, then frowned as it didn't ring. A quick check of the viewscreen revealed that she didn't have any service at the moment. "Damn," she muttered. She repeated it when Gabriel's phone also proved to be without service.

"This is going to be very frustrating," she said as she sat down to dial the old fashioned phone sitting on the side of the bed.

Thirty minutes later, she sat down at the little computer alcove off the front lobby and opened up an e-mail from Lieutenant Tao. The attachment contained two very official looking sets of FBI identification, with 'FBI' taking up half of each card. Brenda smiled.

"Are you sure that's legal?" Gabriel asked quietly.

"These are official identification cards," Brenda said. "As long as the FBI doesn't ask how we got them, we'll be fine."

"You're going to owe Tao something really big after this."

"I am indeed, Sergeant. Come on, we have witnesses to question."

ooo

The Palmer residence was nicer than Brenda had expected -- with the exception of an outdated kitchen, the furniture was top of the line and barely used, with a beautiful new carpet, and expensive fixtures. It was spotlessly clean, too, though every surface was covered with knickknacks: ashtrays, candy dishes, framed photographs, hand-knitted doilies, and homemade afghans. Brenda took a closer look at some of the photographs. They all featured Laura. The largest one was of Laura wearing a homecoming gown and a tiara; it must have been taking just a few weeks before Laura's death. "Your daughter was very beautiful," Brenda said gently.

Sarah Palmer lifted a cigarette to her mouth with a visibly shaking hand and took a long drag. "Yes, she was," she answered, her voice trembling almost as much as her hand. Despite the fact that it was the middle of the afternoon, Sarah was still wearing a robe and her heavily permed hair looked wild and greasy, as if she hadn't bothered to wash it in days. Cooper's notes said that she'd been taking sedatives since Laura's death, which made her a weak, though pliable, witness.

"Is there anyone else at home?" Brenda asked, keeping her voice soft and her movements non-threatening as she sat down in an armchair. She shot Gabriel a look and he sat down as well. "Your husband, perhaps?" she added.

"Leland's gone to work," Mrs. Palmer said bitterly. "His hair's white now, you know."

Brenda spared at glance at Gabriel, who was dutifully writing the comment down, even though his eyebrows were reaching for his hairline. "Is that a...recent development?" Brenda asked.

"It was brown yesterday," Mrs. Palmer said irritably. "He ruins everything."

Before Brenda could come up with a response to that intriguing statement, the front door opened. "Aunt Sarah?" a young female voice called. "I'm back from the store. They didn't have that hair dye you wa-- Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know you had guests." The new arrival held out her hand. "Hi, I'm Maddie, Laura's cousin."

Brenda took the hand, but she couldn't stop staring at the girl. She couldn't help it, because if Laura's cousin replaced that curly black hair with straight blond hair and got rid of the glasses, Maddie would look exactly, exactly like Laura Palmer. She was even the same age and height. It was downright creepy.

"Very nice to meet you, Maddie. I'm Brenda Leigh Johnson and this is David Gabriel. We're with the FBI."

"Oh," Maddie said softly, sinking down onto the couch next to her aunt. "You're replacing Agent Cooper?"

"Just helping him out," Brenda said.

"I was really sorry to hear that he got hurt," Maddie added, her voice dripping with so much sincerity that Brenda would have thought it was faked, but for the fact that her expression was just as earnest. "He seemed like a really nice man."

"I'm sure he is," Brenda said with a comforting smile. "I was just asking your aunt some questions. Would you mind if I asked you a few?"

"Oh, but I wasn't here when Laura died. I came to help out after."

"That's so sweet of you," Brenda said. "But if you wouldn't mind staying anyway, for support." She looked at Sarah meaningfully. Mrs. Palmer didn't even seem to realize that they were talking about her.

"Oh! Of course," Maddie said. She took her aunt's free hand between her own. Sarah sucked down harder on her cigarette.

Brenda gave up on her smile, which wasn't doing much good anyway, and put on a sympathetic expression. "Mrs. Palmer, you said your husband was at work. Can you tell me where he works?"

"I think he helps out Mr. Horne," Maddie said after a moment of awkward silence, during which Sarah stared at the smoke from her cigarette like it was speaking to her.

"Mr. Horne?" Brenda asked, though the name sounded familiar.

"He owns the Horne's Department Store. And Horne's Hardware Store. And Horne's Grocery. And the Great Northern."

"Sounds like a busy guy," Gabriel said.

"He is," Maddie answered. "Why just a few days ago he had some Scandinavians staying at the hotel to talk about business. Or maybe they were Swedish?" She frowned. "Or Dutch?"

"And what does your uncle do for Mr. Horne?" Brenda asked quickly.

"Oh, he...he... Aunt Sarah, what does Uncle Leland do for Mr. Horne?"

Sarah pulled her hand away from her niece's and used it to light a new cigarette off of the butt of the old.

"It doesn't matter," Brenda said. "We can find out later. Let's talk about Laura."

That got Mrs. Palmer's attention. "Laura!" she cried, her eyes welling with tears. Maddie snagged her hand again and started patting it reassuringly.

Brenda soldiered on. "Mrs. Palmer, where did Laura say she was going to be the night she died?"

Mrs. Palmer grabbed a tissue with the same hand that was holding her cigarette and wiped her nose. The smoking coal on the cigarette got dangerously close to Mrs. Palmer's hair and Brenda had to smother a wince. "With Bobby," Mrs. Palmer said. "She said she was going to be with Bobby."

"And Bobby is?" Gabriel asked smoothly.

"Her boyfriend." She blinked sadly. "He's the star of the football team, you know."

So went the rest of the interview, a few moderately helpful answers mixed with a stream of non-sequiturs. Brenda learned that Donna Hayward was, indeed, Laura's best friend; that Sarah had never heard of James Hurley (though Maddie flinched when Gabriel said his name, which Brenda found interesting); that Laura occasionally worked at Horne's department store on top of everything else that she did; and that Leland Palmer was working the night Laura was killed, which meant he probably was going to be even less helpful than his wife.

Sarah's answers got less and less coherent until Brenda finally sighed and gave up. Grief had obviously broken this woman.

They were almost out the door when Brenda thought of one last question to ask: "Mrs. Palmer, do you stay up when your husband or your daughter are out late?"

"No," Sarah said, her voice a painful combination of hoarseness and weariness. "Leland sometimes works all night and Laura-" she sobbed once "-Laura didn't have a curfew on weekends."

"Okay," Brenda said, as Sarah broke down completely. "Thank you," she added, though it was doubtful either of the two women could hear her over Sarah's sobbing.

Once they were safely out the door, Gabriel said, "Works all night, huh? Think maybe he has a mistress?"

"I think it's a distinct possibility," Brenda said. "And I'll bet Mr. Horne the business partner knows all about it." She frowned. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"

"I think Laura was tutoring his son."

"Oh, right," Brenda said. Now that he said that, she also remembered something, "Agent Cooper also thinks he might be connected to the casino that Jacques Renault worked at." And Jacques Renault was the man who had implicated Leo Johnson in Laura's death and was subsequently murdered. Apparently everything in this town did revolve around Laura Palmer.

"If you say so, Chief," Gabriel said.

"There are just too many names to remember in this case and not enough time to look over the case file," Brenda said with a sigh. "Come on. With any luck, Mr. Palmer is with Mr. Horne and we can kill two birds with one stone."

Since all of Twin Peaks appeared to be in a cell phone dead zone, Brenda had to find a pay phone to check in with Fritz. He sounded seriously annoyed at the world -- apparently Agent Cooper had checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice and was walking around asking questions like 'is that body bag smiling?' -- and found out that the most likely location to find Benjamin Horne was at the Great Northern. Apparently one of the perks of owning a hotel was that you and your family could live there for free.

"Thanks, Fritz," Brenda said. She covered the mouthpiece of handset and whispered to Gabriel, "We're going back to the hotel."

Speaking back into the phone, Brenda asked, "Did you get the DNA samples?"

I'm headed there next. What do you want me to do with them when I get them?

"Well, that depends. Did you find out why they haven't had the samples tested yet?"

Yeah, DNA testing's way beyond the capabilities of the local hospital lab. They sent it to the FBI and are expecting the results back in a few weeks.

"Oh, for the love of -- okay, I need you to overnight the samples to Lieutenant Tao. I have his home address."

That's breaking the chain of evidence.

"We won't use Lieutenant Tao's results in court," Brenda promised. "Not with official results coming from the FBI. I just need them ASAP for the investigation."

Fritz sighed, but didn't protest any further as she gave him the address. "We're heading to the Great Northern now to talk to Mr. Horne and, hopefully, Mr. Palmer. Do you want us to wait for you?"

No, that's fine. I'll come over as soon as I've mailed off the samples and we can compare notes.

"All right. See you then. And thank you."

Fritz's voice sounded weary as he answered, You're welcome, Brenda.

Brenda hung up the phone and huffed as she climbed into the car, "I can't imagine what they were thinking sending just Agent Cooper here. No wonder this case is such a disaster."

"Do you think we'll be able to solve it?" Gabriel asked pulling out onto the road. "I mean, we're outside our jurisdiction, with limited manpower, and the case is already over a week old."

Brenda compressed her lips and glared out of the windshield. "Oh, we'll solve it, David. There's no way this town is going to beat me."

In the awkward silence that followed, Brenda realized what she had just done. She immediately flushed, but kept her mouth shut. Apologizing for using his first name would just make the gaffe more noticeable.

Still, the silence lingered until they were almost back to the hotel, when Gabriel cleared his throat and said, "I can't believe we ended up back here."

A weak attempt, but at least he was trying. "At least we're getting familiar with the layout of the town," Brenda offered in return.

Gabriel's eyes narrowed and he shot a glance at her. "That's not a hint that you want to start driving, is it?"

"No, I--"

"'Cause it took you six months to stop getting lost in LA. I'm just saying." Gabriel smirked.

"You need to stop bringing that up," Brenda retorted, struggling to restrain a grin. "Wi-- I mean, Chief Pope hasn't mentioned my driving in months; you need to let it go."

"Chief Pope wasn't the one who had to explain why you were late to twelve crime scenes in a row."

"No, it wasn't twelve." She glanced over at Gabriel, who was nodding. "Really?"

"Tao kept track."

Oh dear. "But I have gotten better, haven't I?"

"You could hardly get worse."

Brenda restrained the urge to smack him.

"Tell you what: if you promise to let me do all the driving in Twin Peaks, I'll stop ragging on you about your driving in LA."

"Deal," Brenda said immediately, as Gabriel parked the car.

"That was too easy," he said.

"Too late now," she answered brightly.

They asked for Mr. Horne and Mr. Palmer at the front desk and were told that Mr. Horne was in a meeting. "Is there some place we can wait for him?" Brenda asked. The concierge looked a bit lost, so Brenda finally flashed her FBI credentials. "We really do need to speak with him as soon as possible."

"Oh," the woman said, her eyes getting wide. "Well, maybe you could wait in the breakfast room? It's empty right now, and there's fresh coffee if you'd like some."

"Perfect," Brenda said with a smile that she dropped the moment her back was turned. All this smiling was starting to make her feel like a politician.

She'd had several minutes to look around the breakfast room when David showed up with a paper in hand. "Sorry," he said. "I wanted to get a map of the town."

Brenda smirked, but didn't say anything. They both knew that she'd tease him mercilessly if he got them lost after their talk in the car.

As David--no, Gabriel. As Gabriel looked over his map, Brenda found a map of her own to inspect, this one framed and hung on the wall by the door. It was a large, elegant, full-color map with a large tract on the northern end of town labeled "Future location of Ghostwood Country Club and Estates" in fancy golden calligraphy. Apparently Mr. Horne dabbled in a bit of real estate development in addition to owning every other store in town.

Brenda found the rest of the town more interesting, and spent a minute finding the places she knew: the police station, the hotel, and the hospital. When it came to locating the saw mill that had burned down last night, she had a bit more difficulty. "Sergeant Gabriel, could you come here, please?"

"What's up, Chief?"

"Let me borrow that map for a second." He handed it over with a curious look. It only took a second to see that the Packard Mill was smack dab in the middle of the future location of Ghostwood Country Club and Estates.

She pointed that out to Gabriel, who said, "Is it just me, Chief, or does this town seem to have enough potential crimes for a city ten times its size?"

"It's not you," Brenda said with a sigh. She was prevented from expounding on the topic by the arrival of a tall, well-groomed man in his early forties.

"Hello," the man said with a slick, polished smile. "I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

"Mr. Horne?" Brenda asked. The man nodded. "So very nice to meet you. "My name is Brenda Johnson and this is David Gabriel. We're here with the FBI."

"Very nice to meet you," Mr. Horne said, and he even managed to make it sound like he meant it. Definitely a politician. "Would you like a cup of coffee? No? Well, why don't we go to my office, then? It's much more comfortable."

His office was more comfortable. And huge. It was in the shape of a rectangle, with a few steps leading down from the door, a massive fireplace in one corner, and a large mahogany desk on the opposite wall. Not much in the way of seats, though, and Brenda wondered at the large amount of empty floor space in front of the desk. In the end, Mr. Horne had to pull two chairs from the otherwise empty corners of the room for Brenda and Gabriel to sit.

"So, what can I do for you?" Horne asked as he settled in behind his desk. From this angle he looked imposing, rather than slick.

"I just have a few question for you, if you don't mind. I understand that Laura was tutoring your son Johnny?"

Horne put on a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, Johnny has special needs. Laura was very good with him."

Brenda nodded. "And she also worked in your department store, is that correct?"

"She might have," Horne said with a shrug. "Many of our high school students work in one of my stores or another. But I wouldn't know the details of that myself. I have managers to oversee the day-to-day business of my stores."

"You are quite the business man, aren't you?"

Horne visibly swelled up with pride, and this time his smile sparkled in his eyes. "When I first came to Twin Peaks, it was a tiny little slip of a town with nothing but a grocery store and a gas station to its name. You had to drive to Spokane just to buy clothes. Now we have visitors from all over Washington, Idaho, Montana, and even Canada coming to explore the delights that Twin Peaks has to offer."

"That's quite impressive," Brenda said.

Horne beamed. "Thank you. I do my best."

"And Leland Palmer? How does he fit into this grand plan?"

"Ah, Leland." Horne's face settled into a perfect expression of appropriate grief. "Leland has been with me from the beginning. Small towns rarely have much vision, you know, and they fight all change, even change that is good for them. Leland was my local liaison, helping the townspeople to understand and accept all of the wonderful things that I was planning for Twin Peaks."

"Was your liaison?" Gabriel interjected.

"Is," Horne said quickly. "Of course, he is my liaison." He shrugged ruefully. "This tragedy has us all mixed up."

At that moment a voice came through the door. A loud, singing voice:

"Now if the words sound queer
And funny to your ear
A little bit jumbled and jivey
Say, "Mares eat oats
And does eat oats
And little lambs eat iiiiiiivy".