Thank you for reading and following this story. It's so cool. Here's another chapter. I hope you like it. And of course you can tell me what you think.

Enjoy.

T73.

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I made it in time!
I've roared home on my motorbike, which I'm using in my spare time, have got rid of my clothes on the way to the bathroom and took a shower.
I have only a single problem.
The boisterous weed on my head I call hair.
The relentless curls have driven me to despair already.
I've already tried to straighten my hair with an flat iron, with an iron ... I was nine ... and wanted to cut me an bald.
I have rejected every single plan.
My hair may look like a lion's mane, thank you Pa, but with a little hair spray I get them every time under control.
My everyday work clothing consists of six components: a fabric pants, an undershirt, an colored shirt, a blazer, my belt, and my comfortable black boots.
I reduced my pantsuits on three colors: light, medium, dark.
Plain and simple.
I don't have to dress up.
I work for the police and not for a damn fashion show.
Today i decided for a black suit and a bright red shirt.
I just feel for it.
I attach my badge and the holster with the Glock on my belt.
I love the weight on my hip.
It's like I would put on my super hero costume.
Well, I'm not sure whether Superman's red cape had left in lurch or Spiderman's spider senses failed.
The thought let me look down to my hands and rub the ugly scar in the middle of my left hand with my right thumb.
I curl my fingers around my thumb and squeeze it angrily.
Only the thought of this sick son of a bitch let me feel sick.
This evening, all of my super powers had left me at the same time.
What a bullshit.
Super powers!
I am a woman of flesh and blood and not a fictional comic character.
I grab my black jacket from the bed and my keys of my Jeep Cherokee and head out of my apartment after I pat Jo's head one last time.
I must once again confront the daily struggle on the street.
Crime never sleeps!
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The department of Homicide isn't very large.
Thirty-two officers work here.
The best of the best.
Boston's finest.
Everyone wants to work here, a few are accepted.
But I've made it.
As the first woman since a while, that's why it's harder for me.
I'm not sick to the stomach.
Slit throats or exposed innards I do not much mind, not to mention the day-old body smell.
On the contrary to my new partner Barry Frost.
He's a loveable guy, but as soon as he sees a bleeding body he have too ... Well, he's not so tough.
Well, he is from Robbery.
But he has his merits.
At the computer he's an unbeatable ace.
Another member of my team is Vince Korsak, my former partner.
A long-established.
He belongs to the force as the core to the earth.
He is my bastion of calm, although I'll never admit it.
I owe Korsak my life, but we never talk about it.
Frost don't know what happened that night, I never talk about it.

It belongs to the past.
Korsak's and my past.
Frost don't need to know.
In that night, I was careless, arrogant, vulnerable.
And I've paid the price.
We've paid the price.
If Korsak hasn't been, Maura could let exhume my body and examine me to get to know me.
I sigh and shake my head as I enter the bullpen.
"Morning." Frost greets me and furls his eyebrows.
"Morning," I greet him back with a little smile.
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Liar."
"I met a girl," I laugh and sit down on my office chair.
Frost puts his chin in the palm of his hand and blinks like a little school girl who is waiting for the latest gossip, "Tell me more."
I roll my eyes, "She ran into me this morning."
"In the truest sense of the word or is it just a metaphor?" he asks.
I wrinkle my nose. "How can you run into someone metaphorically?"
Frost shrugs, "There is always a first time?"
"Stalker." I chuckle and look around. "Where is Korsak?"
"In Cavanaugh's office," he answers. "He obtains the okay."
I slowly nod.
We need the okay of our Lieutenant for our next step in our investigation.
It is a very precarious situation.
We're currently investigating a case that we can trace back to the street racing scene.
We're nit talking about NASCAR or Formula One.
We're talking about illegal street racing.
Ruthless, unconditionally.
You have some balls to belong to those crews.
You need to experiment and implement a lot.
My special task.
I have an Mazda in my spare garage on which I like to hatch. Just for fun.
The car is no longer suitable for the regular traffic.
On bad days, I can let out my mood on a race track.
I learn the knowing by chance.
It had started after Tommy and I one day had unscrewed an old scooter.
Then I went into my father's teaching.
I maybe drove one or two races with the love of my life, quite legally.
I need the kick at the end of a nerve-racking day.
The Mazda is a light weight car.
Designed for racing and packed in a city car.
I hate city cars.
I was always the sporty type.
Since I've seen the X-series of Mazda, my heart beat for it.
Initially, I've called the model out of fun BMW or Porsche of the working class.

I've changed my mind quickly.
The X-series are muscles, energy and delight.
I could write a whole love poem for this car.
Frost seems to read my mind and rolls his eyes.
"What?" I laugh.
He leans back in his chair. "If I wouldn't know better, then I would say that you have a love affair with your racing machine."
I place my right foot on my left knee and smile, "A car is like a woman. Give it enough attention and it will thank you for that."
"Do you get that from a banner?" he laughs.
I laugh as well and shake my head, "Life experience."
"Did I already mention that we have a new Chief Medical Examiner?" he changes the subject.
"No."
"A woman," he informs me. "She's pretty hot."
In no time I'm back on my feet. I rarely get the opportunity to meet two beautiful women in one day.
"What are you doing?" Frost laughs.
I start my way to the entrance of the bullpen. "I welcome the new Doc."
"Jane," he says.
I stop and look over my shoulder at him.
"Behave yourself." he warns me.
I scoff and ho to the elevator.
If Korsak is able to convince Cavanaugh that it is absolutely necessary to wrangle one of us in the racing scene, preferably me, then we have a huge advantage.
And Korsak is a man who can convince others.
The elevator needs to long for my taste and I decide to take the stairs, at,least I want to meet the new Chief Medical Examiner.
And the extra exercise can't hurt.
The forensic department is in the lower floor and strictly kept sterile.
Employees of the lab scurrying around blissfully.
I've never understood how someone can love science so much.
I concentrated mainly on sports in school.
I look in the autopsy room, but it's empty.
So I went to the office of the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.
I had long the opinion that Dr. Robert Blake was too old for this job.
A blonde stands with her back to me and put some books in a bookshelf behind the brown wooden desk.
Her black skirt highlights her nice butt.
I, for myself, like the view very much.
And the emerald green blouse moves with each of her movement.
"Hello there," I say and she swirls around.
My jaw immediately drops to the floor and my heart skips a beat.
Well, she's pretty hot. Frost hasn't fooled me.
But I've already thought that this morning.
She is just as surprised to see me as I am.
"Jane?" Maura says in surprise. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?"
I walk coolly into the office, "Um ... even if it looks like ... no. No, I work here." I pause and stuff my hands in my pants pockets. "Well, not here. On the third floor. In Homicide."
She licks her lips and raises an sculpted eyebrow, "Oh, is that so?"
I smile mischievously and lift my right shoulder.
She smiles back at me and point to an already unpacked coffee maker. "Would you like a coffee?"
I look at the device and raise my eyebrows, "Uh ... normally yes. But I am only here to welcome the new Chief Medical Examiner. So you." I raise my right hand, "Welcome at BPD."

She smiles broadly and I melt. "That's very thoughtful. Thank you, Detective."
I stand in the office and look around. "So ... the Chief Medical examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, huh?"
She unpacks a box and nods, "Yes."
"Did you ... did you forget to mention that little detail?"
"No. I told you that I am a Medical Examiner."
I am a little perplex. She's right. She said that she is a Medical Examiner.
I didn't told her what I do for a living.
She would have each right to be mad at me.
Maura slowly walks to the said coffee maker and I can't do other then to stare like mesmerized at her swaying butt.
I don't know what's going on with me when I'm near her. Normally I'm not drooling like a teenager boy. But in her presence my brain is on idle.
"You didn't tell me that you are a Detective of Boston Police." she says.
I clear my throat, "True. My career choice is as well received by others as yours. I normally wait until after the third date before I tell what I do for a living."
She laughs and pours herself a cup of coffee. "So, a Detective of Homicide, huh? That's impressive. Especially for a woman in your age."
"Not as impressive as the Chief Medical Examiner of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts." I compliment her and she blushes.
I smile and eye her from head to toe, and I have to suppress a hungry growl, "You look even better than in your workout clothes."
She looks down at herself and smoothes the invisible wrinkles in her skirt, "Thank you. You're not bad yourself."
A chuckle erupt from my chest and I kick the damn invisible stone in front of me aside. "We will see more often. You and me."
She walks back to her new desk and sits down on her expensive looking chair. "Yes. Is that a problem for you?"
"Only if you're always wearing such clothes like you are wearing right now."
Maura smiles knowing, "Excuse me?"
I smile back at her and wave the question away. I look at my watch and sigh, "Crap, I have to go back up again. Listen, I know a nice little bar, just around the corner. How would it be if I,invite you after work for a drink?"
Again she smiles at me with that adorable smile, "You never give up, do you?"
I stop at the door frame and look at her, "No, never."

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I come back into the bullpen and be welcomed by sight of Korsak.
He stands at Frost's desk and is,mulling over something.
It must be very interesting because he doesn't notice my presence.
I clear my throat and get the attention of the two men.
"Have you had any success?" I ask.
He straightens up and set his reading glasses on his nose down. "Cavanaugh isn't necessarily happy about your plan, Jane. He wants us to have an eye on you 24/7, if it works out."

"How should I get one of in with me, too?" I ask.
Frankie comes to join us and hooks his thumbs in the loops of his belt, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
I eye him skeptically, "What do you want? Don't you have to write any tickets?"
The goofy grin immediately disappears from his lips again, "Haven't you told her?"
I look questioningly at my brother, and then at Korsak. "Told me what?"
Korsak swallows hard and shrugs his shoulders, "You don't have to get Frost or me in, Jane. You're suppose to get in Frankie with you."
I stare at him for what feels hours.
It happens to me as if he had told a joke on Greek which I hadn't understood.
Frost nods recommending and high-fives with my little brother.
"This is my practical test, dude." Frankie says gleefully.
"Yeah, man." Frost agrees.
I start to shake my head ad walk to my desk, "No, uh-uh. No, that happens only over my dead body. I won't bring my brother in danger. Can you imagine what our mother will do to me when Frankie gets hurt? Even I won't imagine it. So, no."
Frankie rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Either that or you can forget about the whole plan, Jane," Korsak says.
"And also, I'm not a little kid anymore." Frankie says. "I put myself in danger every day."
"Yes, that's right." I say like a child who can't impose its will, "And who is Ma blaming for that? Certainly not you, Frankie."
"Your decision," he grumbles.
I sigh. I know that Frankie just wants to help. That he would do anything for me. And I would do the same for him.
It always was this way.
Together we're simply unbeatable.
As Frankie had decided that he's going to join the force too, our mother totally freaked out. Has given me the blame for.
Not really the blame, but since our childhood Frankie follows my footsteps.
Do what I did or would do.
I can't blame him that he finally wants to climb the next step on the career ladder. And this undercover operation could be his big chance, right?
However, Frankie is inexperienced in terms of undercover, and any unusual behavior can risk the operation, or worse ... our lives.
And that Ma would never forgive me, if we're both die in the line of duty.
She probably would drag me out of my grave, revive me, and kill me again.
And I have no desire for that, not at all.
And moreover I've invested too much time in this case. We all did.
In recent weeks, several bodies have been swept in. And when I say swept in, I mean it in the truest sense of the word.
They were men and women in the age between twenty and thirty.
They came to death in a variety of ways.
But they all had something in common.
They all had a criminal record and had knowledge of cars.
We could quickly narrow the culprit to the street racing scene.
Currently, Boston is flooded with illegal street racings and drug shipments by street racers.
Currently there are four acting parties:
The McDonough's. Brutal thugs who are in contact with the Irish mob. They call their crew The Irish Freedom.
The González'. Mexican wannabe crooks, who are making much noise about nothing. But race technically, they're up to date. Their street name is El Toro.
The Pileggi's. An Italian crew, worse than the McDonough's. We assume that they walk hand in hand with the Italian mob.
The department of organized crime just couldn't make a connection yet.
They call themselves L'uomo Ombra.
The Thin Man or The Shadow Man.
And last but not least, the Evermann's.
A grouping with no specific ethnicity.
Even more are these drivers and technicians dangerous. They have no inhibitions, no code.
They call themselves The Indomitable.

They are my goal.
I can infiltrate them easily. I only need a convincingly criminal record.
Thank god we have Frost.
As I already mentioned, he's an artist in the digital world.
I sigh again and stare at my brother, "When do we start the operation?"
Frankie tries to hide his way too happy smile.
Korsak slowly nods his head, "Monday morning after the briefing."
A frown slowly crawl upon my forehead. "Monday already?"
"Is it inconvenience for you?" Frankie asks amused.
I roll my eye and lean back in my chair.
"She met a new woman," Frost says with a smile.
I crumple an empty piece of paper and toss it at him.
Korsak tries to hide his smile and turns away.
Frankie wrinkles his nose, "You're worse than Hugh Hefner."
I give him a look, "Shut the fuck up. Firstly, I have not the mansion. And secondly, I have not the juice."
"But the same wear and tear," Frost laughs.
I exhale through my nose and lower my chin.