CHAPTER 2.

The next morning, Fraser was surprised to see Ray back at the Consulate. "I just thought, maybe, er, ya wanted to ride with us today," suggested Ray, hopefully.

"I thought Lieutenant Welsh's instructions were that you act alone as Officer Mallion's Training Officer," replied Fraser.

"Yaah, well I won't tell him if you won't," grinned Ray. " So, are ya comin'?"

Fraser thought for a moment. He actually had a lot to do today. Turnbull had brought some complex documents back from the Italian Ambassador. They were written in English, but he had to translate them into French for submission to Head Office in Ottowa. He couldn't say no to Ray, though. His friend had clearly not had much sleep. "Of course," he replied. The translations would have to wait.

Ray breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been awake most of the night worrying. He'd been that close to walking into Welsh's office first thing this morning and telling him couldn't do it anymore and that he'd have to find someone else to take Frankie today, but at the last minute he'd changed his mind. He felt bad about the way he'd treated her yesterday. She wasn't stupid; she'd made a mistake and she'd paid a price and Ray knew she would never make the same mistake again. And Fraser had been right; her instincts were as sharp as any cop he'd ever worked with. All she needed was a little more experience and she'd wind up with an arrest record to put every other cop to shame. He couldn't let her down, not now, even though the responsibility was making him ill. That's when he'd had the idea of taking Fraser out with them too.

"Thanks, buddy," grinned Ray. "We were just gonna go back to Carlton's and follow up after that, er, armed robbery last week."

Fraser grabbed his hat and he and Dief followed Ray out to the car.

"Are you sure you're OK with this?" asked Ray, feeling suddenly guilty that he'd dragged his buddy away from his desk. "It's just…" he trailed off. "I don't know if I can do this anymore. I wanted to quit, but…"

"Ray, treat yesterday as a trial run," suggested Fraser. "You're both on a steep learning curve."

"You can say that again," replied Ray. "I have no idea what I'm doin', I've never been a TO before."

"And Frankie has never been a rookie cop before," Fraser pointed out. "She has the potential to be an excellent police officer. I'm sure she'll learn from her mistakes. We all make them."

Ray laughed. "Even you?" He'd made plenty of mistakes in his lifetime, but surely Fraser wasn't that D-U-M dumb?

Fraser stopped dead in his tracks and looked solemnly at Ray. "I've made some huge mistakes," he said, with a heavy sigh.

Ray winced. Victoria; he's talking about that bitch who tried to kill him. He wished he hadn't reminded his friend about that today.

"I just think I handled yesterday really badly," said Ray, getting back to the subject.

"You did fine," Fraser tried to reassure him. "You had a right to be angry with her; she put herself in danger."

"Maybe," he conceded as they walked to the car, "but I shouldn't have yelled."

"How is your head this morning?" Fraser asked Frankie who was waiting in the passenger seat.

"It's OK," she replied with a shrug. "My Mom went crazy when she saw it. I didn't tell her exactly what happened, though."

"Whilst I don't normally condone deceitfulness I think under the circumstances that it was probably for the best," agreed Fraser.

The manager of Carlton's Bistro, Gary Burnett, was outside his restaurant when they pulled up. They had recently suffered two robberies and he was keen to see the culprits caught.

"So, er, what've ya got to remember when you question a witness," said Ray, putting on his best teaching voice.

"Um, don't ask leading questions," replied Frankie.

"Right," nodded Ray with a smile.

"And write down everything they say even if it doesn't seem important at the time," she continued, "and observe their body language."

"Great," grinned Ray. So far so good, he thought.

They got out of the car and introduced themselves to Burnett.

Frankie took out her notebook as they walked through the restaurant towards the man's office and immediately started asking questions. Fraser couldn't help a small smile at her initiative. The interview went well and they left the office with some valuable information that would help with the investigation.

Suddenly they heard a commotion. One of the waiters came running towards them. "Mr Burnett, it's your wife again," he said urgently. "She's on the balcony; she's taken a baby this time!"

"What?" exclaimed Burnett. "Oh god, I was afraid she'd do something like this."

"What do you mean?" asked Fraser, urgently.

"We lost our daughter seven years ago, Emily," explained Burnett, sadly. "She was three months old; she died in her sleep. Gina has tried to take her own life four times since then, but these robberies have made her worse. "

Fraser and Ray glanced at each other. This was a desperate situation; Burnett's wife was clearly unstable and the baby was in grave danger. They ran through to the main dining area where they found a crowd had gathered at the window. A woman was screaming and trying to climb out, but she was being restrained by her friend. "She's got my baby!" the woman shouted.

"Please, stay back, ma'am," urged Ray, flashing his badge. "We'll get your baby back. Frankie…" he spun round to look for her, but she wasn't there. "Frankie!" he called out again. Then his blood ran cold as he realised where she was. He looked out of the window and saw her - Frankie had climbed out onto the balcony and was talking to Gina who was balancing precariously on the railings, holding the baby tightly in her arms.

"Fraser, she's done it again!" yelled Ray, throwing his hands in the air in despair.

Fraser had been at the other end of the room looking for another way onto the balcony. He came running over to join his partner. Ray went to climb out of the window too, but Fraser pulled him back. "Wait," he urged. He could hear the conversation going on out on the balcony; Frankie was starting to gain Gina's trust.

"Fraser, we've gotta get her back in here," hissed Ray. "You go out there; you're great at this kind of thing."

"Ray, she's a trained police officer, not a child," Fraser reminder him. "Let her do this. She knows what she's doing; she's saying all the right things."

Ray carefully peered out of the window to see Gina climbing back over the ledge. She still had the baby in her arms though. Ray quickly put on his glasses, drew his gun and aimed at Gina. "I've got a shot," he said. "I can take her out."

"No!" exclaimed the baby's mother and Ray lowered his gun with a sigh. She had a good point; he wasn't going to risk shooting a baby.

"I think I can get out there via the fire escape," announced Fraser. "Ray, monitor the situation. I suggest that if at any point you believe Frankie is losing control then go in." He glanced over his shoulder at the baby's hysterical mother, before adding, "Hopefully we can end this without bloodshed."

Fraser ran to the fire exit and Ray crouched down and crawled to the other side of the window. He could see Frankie now, but he'd lost his direct line of sight to Gina and the baby.

Out on the balcony Frankie was desperately trying to recall her training. They'd role played situations like this at the Academy, but real life felt completely different. One mistake and a woman and a baby could die.

"May I hold her?" Frankie asked with as much warmth in her voice as she could muster. "I love babies."

There was a pause and Ray held his breath.

"Please," urged Frankie.

"You're going to take her away, aren't you," replied Gina flatly. "You're going to take my baby away."

"No one wants to take your baby away," replied Frankie gently. "Why don't you come back inside," she added. "It's windy today; you don't want Emily to get cold."

So, Gina Burnett thinks this baby is hers, the one that died, thought Ray. He felt desperately sorry for her, but until the baby was safely back in the arms of her real mother Gina was still a threat to the infant's life.

Frankie took a few steps towards Gina.

Be careful, thought Ray. Don't spook her.

"Come inside," said Frankie. "It's alright," she added. "Everything's going to be OK." Ray watched as she stepped even closer, then out of the corner of his eye he spotted Fraser at the side of the balcony, just out of Gina's line of sight.

Gina allowed Frankie to touch her arm and the young rookie started to lead her slowly towards the window, talking supportively to her all the time. "Please can I hold Emily," asked Frankie again.

"OK," agreed Gina, "but only for a moment."

Frankie's heart was pounding as Gina stopped walking and looked lovingly down at the baby in her arms. This is almost over, she realised. She wanted to reach out and snatch the baby to safety, but she didn't want to risk any harm coming to the child so she knew she had to let this play out. She'd spotted Fraser and felt reassured by his presence.

Frankie held out her arms, waiting for Gina to pass the baby to her, but then the older woman's face suddenly fell. "This isn't Emily?" she said, her expression a mixture of shock and confusion "Where's Emily? What have you done with her?"

"It's alright," replied Frankie, desperately trying to keep her calm. She glanced at Ray who was now on his feet, anticipating trouble. "Just give her to me, please," she begged.

"No!" exclaimed Gina and then in a flash it was all over. Frankie lunged forward and grabbed the baby just as Fraser leapt over the railings and Ray jumped out onto the balcony. Gina tried to run back to the ledge, but Ray and Fraser had her arms firmly in their grasp.

Frankie climbed back inside and handed the baby back to her grateful mother. "Thank you," the woman sobbed and held her baby tightly. Frankie smiled and let out a huge sigh of relief.

Frankie stood in the middle of the restaurant trying to take in what had just happened. It had all happened so fast. She turned to find Ray, but he had gone downstairs with Gina and her husband to wait for a squad car to come and take them to the station. Suddenly she realised Ray might be mad at her again. She'd rushed into a situation; acted on her instincts just like yesterday, but this was completely different to yesterday…wasn't it? Frankie sat down in a vacant chair and thought about what she could have done differently. If she'd waited any longer, Gina Burnett might have jumped off the balcony and taken the baby with her. She was sure she'd done the right thing this time...hadn't she? Her thoughts were interrupted by Fraser's voice.

"Good work out there," he said.

Frankie looked up at him and managed a half smile. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean, I didn't really know what to say to her, I was kinda making it up."

Fraser slowly scratched his eyebrow with his thumbnail. "In my experience that's often the best way to do it," he replied. "You have to react and adapt to any given situation as it evolves. Your quick thinking saved lives today."

Frankie's smile grew wider. "Thanks," she said. "I just hope Ray agrees with you."

xXxXxXx

They dropped Fraser back at the Consulate on their way back to the Two Seven.

"You really didn't need me after all, did you," Fraser pointed out as Ray walked him to the door. "Frankie seemed to have everything under control."

Ray looked back over his shoulder at the car where Frankie was waiting for him and smiled. "I guess I need to remind her again about rushing into things without telling me what the plan is," he said, "but she did a great job today."

Fraser nodded.

"So now I'm gonna introduce her to the joys of paperwork," Ray continued. "She can write up Gina Burnett. I need to file a report about yesterday, too."

"What are you going to say?" asked Fraser.

Ray shrugged. "Dunno yet," he replied. "Probably not all of it. Welsh'd go nuts."

Fraser frowned. As a Mountie, the thought of falsifying, or even watering down the facts, in an official police report was abhorrent to him, but in this case he agreed with Ray's judgement. Ray could write the report in such a way as not to get Frankie into trouble.

Just then Turnbull opened the door. "Oh, buongiorno, Detective Vecchio," he beamed.

Ray sneered. Fraser had told him that Turnbull was trying to learn Italian. Ray had tried to learn himself when he first took the undercover role, as the real Ray Vecchio was Italian of course, but he had failed spectacularly. Ray struggled with English sometimes, so languages had never been his strong point. "Er, yeah," he replied. "Fraser, I'll call ya tomorrow."

Fraser followed Turnbull inside. "Come sta?" asked the younger Mountie, keen to try out his new skills.

Turnbull's accent sounded more Australian than Italian to Fraser, but it was good enough to be understood. "Sto bene, grazie," Fraser replied.

Turnbull looked puzzled.

"I said I'm fine," explained Fraser. "You asked me how I was."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Turnbull, embarrassed that he hadn't understood. "I, um, I might just go and listen to my language tapes again."

xXxXxXx

The next morning, Frankie sat at Ray's desk typing up reports. To her relief, Ray had been OK after the incident on the balcony. He'd told her that he was pleased with how she'd handled the situation and that had boosted Frankie's confidence enormously. She really wanted to show what she could do. Ray was late this morning though, but it gave her a chance to finish the reports.

Ray finally walked into the squad room at just after ten thirty. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Slept through my alarm."

"It's OK," smiled Frankie. "Here is my report from yesterday. I hope I haven't missed anything out."

Ray took the neatly typed pages from her and put them straight down on his desk. "Coffee," he said. "Can't read anything before coffee."

Frankie laughed. "I'll get you some," she said and went to the coffee machine.

Ray rubbed his eyes and tried to figure out what to do today. He had a mountain of paperwork to get through and seeing as Frankie seemed to enjoy it so much he was tempted to stay at the station and get her to do it for him. Then his conscience kicked in and he realised that would be unfair on the rookie. He'd get Fraser to do it for him tomorrow instead.

Frankie returned and placed a cup of coffee on the desk in front of him.

"Thanks," he grunted and opened his desk drawer to find something to sweeten it with.

"Where are we going today?" asked Frankie, screwing her face up in disgust as Ray threw a handful of candies into his cup.

"Er, not sure yet," admitted Ray.

"How about this?" Francesca Vecchio suddenly appeared at Ray's desk and waved a printout under his nose. "This just came in," she explained. "Possible domestic. Neighbours heard fighting and screaming and now no one's answering the door."

"OK," agreed Ray. "We'll take it. C'mon Frankie."

They drove to the apartment building and met a woman outside. "What've we got?" Ray asked her.

"It's the young girl in apartment fourteen," explained the woman as she led them up the stairs. "We heard shouting and screaming in the early hours, but that happens all the time so I ignored it. Then I realised I'd got some of her mail in my box by mistake. I knocked on her door to give it to her, but there was no answer. She hasn't left for work yet; her car's still in the parking lot."

"You say you've heard fighting before?" Frankie queried.

"Yes," nodded the woman as they reached the door to Apartment Fourteen. "She lives alone, though. Her sister used to live there too, but she's moved out now."

"Thank you, we'll take it from here," said Ray. He knocked loudly on the door. "Police!" he shouted. "Is everything OK in there?"

Nothing.

"This is the Police," Frankie called out, knocking on the door as she spoke. "Please open the door."

Still silence.

Ray looked at Frankie; this didn't feel right at all. "Does anyone else have a key?" he asked the neighbour.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I'll go and find Mrs Hirayama, she used to have spares," and she raced off down the hall.

Frankie glanced at Ray again. "Should we wait?" she asked.

Ray hesitated for a moment. Something was very wrong here; he could feel it and he knew Frankie felt the same. "No," he said looking seriously at Frankie. "OK, draw your weapon," he instructed, "remember your training and don't do anythin' stupid." Then he threw his weight against the door and it flew open.

Frankie's hands were shaking as she took her gun from its holster and slowly followed Ray inside the apartment. They had no idea what they were walking into. She felt sick and her breathing became shallow. Calm down, Frankie, she said to herself. This was real Police work. This was all she'd ever wanted and now it was really happening. She stayed close to Ray, looking around her for anything that moved.

"Chicago PD!" Ray called out again, hoping someone would answer, but no one did.

As soon as they got inside they could see something had definitely been going on. Books and papers were all over the place and plates and glasses lay smashed on the floor. They continued carefully trying not to disturb any potential evidence.

Eventually they got to the bedroom. Ray knew exactly what he was going to find; his gut instincts had told him that this was not going to end well. He glanced at Frankie and then slowly pushed open the door. His heart sank as the door swung open to reveal the naked body of a young woman draped across the bed.

Frankie gasped when she saw her. "Oh, jeez," she said. Her face was so badly bruised and swollen that Frankie doubted anyone would recognise her and her arms were hanging unnaturally behind her head.

"You OK?" asked Ray and Frankie nodded silently. "Call for back up," he said, passing Frankie his phone and he went over to confirm that the woman was definitely dead, not that there was much doubt.

xXxXxX

Soon the place was crawling with Police. The forensics team began sweeping the apartment for clues and the young Medical Examiner was crouching beside the body while his technician was taking photographs.

"Anything?" asked Ray, hopefully.

"She was beaten and strangled, time of death probably around two or three hours ago. That's all I can tell you for now," replied the ME. "We'll have to get her back to the morgue. Mort can take this one."

Ray nodded solemnly. He turned to find Frankie leaning against the doorframe, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go talk to the neighbours; someone must know somethin'." He was aware that the scene was very difficult for the young rookie to take in. Hell, it's hard enough for me and I've seen enough murder scenes.

Frankie was relieved to be getting out of there. She'd always known that this would be a part of her job, but she hadn't expected to be discovering a murder victim on day three of her career.

"Um, so, ya got any questions?" Ray asked her as they pushed past the two officers who were now guarding the door to Apartment Fourteen.

Frankie shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she replied quietly. In truth she had a hundred questions for Ray, but her head was spinning and she couldn't seem to get them into any logical order, so she decided to leave the questions until later.

"Look, if ya wanna leave, it's OK," said Ray. "I'll get one of the guys to run you back to the station."

"No," said Frankie with determination in her voice. "I want to stay, I want to help," she said. She glanced back towards the apartment and tried to get the image of the dead woman out of her mind, but she couldn't.

Ray nodded; he understood exactly how she felt.

Most of the neighbours had come out of their apartments to see what was going on and Frankie got out her notebook and started asking questions. Ray let Frankie take the lead; she was really good at this, he realised, really thorough and methodical. It was almost like having Fraser at his side. I just hope she doesn't start licking things.

Just then they heard raised voices coming from back along the hallway.

"No I'm sorry, you can't go in there!" It was one of the officers on the door of the dead woman's apartment.

"Get off me!" a woman yelled at him, wriggling her arm free of his grasp.

Frankie and Ray ran back to see what was going on, but they were too late to stop the woman who had sidestepped the guards and was now in the apartment.

"Hey, this is a crime scene!" Ray shouted.

"But I live here," replied the woman, weaving her way through the army of people in the apartment. "At least I used to," she added.

Frankie gasped. "The sister!" she said to Ray. "Please, don't go in there!" she begged the woman, but her pleas were ignored.

Ray and Frankie caught up with her a fraction of a second too late; the woman screamed as she saw the body of her sister lying on the bed.

Frankie hung her head. "I'm so sorry," she said. She quickly took the woman by the shoulders and gently led her away from the grisly scene.

A few minutes later Frankie placed a glass of water on the kitchen table. "Here," she said, "drink this."

The victim's sister – Caitlin – was sitting on a chair, barely holding herself together. She was trembling and biting her nails and breathing rapidly. Ray sat in the chair opposite, hoping that she could pull herself together enough to answer a few questions.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ray began and Caitlin acknowledged the sentiment. "I promise that we'll do everything we can to find out who killed your sister," he added.

Caitlin gulped down a mouthful of water and looked at him. "Half-sister," she corrected him in a shaky voice. Her next statement stunned Ray and Frankie. "And I already know exactly who killed her."