"So…where does that leave us?" Someone had to ask the question, and the orange-masked turtle was the first one bold enough to do so.
"I already did some more digging on this Jackson character, just to see what I could find on him," Greg said slowly. "He has several priors on his record, but they're more than a decade old. There's this huge gap between his early twenties and the domestic violence charge from a couple of days ago. That alone is really weird."
"It's not as strange as you think."
Mike was ashamed to inwardly admit he had no clue Calley had come up behind them until the woman joined the conversation.
"You have to consider the hierarchy of a gang," she continued. "When you think about a group like that, you normally associate it with teenagers and young adults. Why? Because they handle all the dangerous 'dirty' work. The more you advance in the ranks, certain tasks become beneath you.
"Someone like Viper who's been in the Dagos for this long, he has to have seniority. That means he wouldn't take part in mundane criminal acts or go out looking for a fight just for kicks. The older members are about the big picture. If a group like that was only built on its younger populace, it wouldn't have a real foundation. It takes the experience and maturity of the senior members for a gang to endure."
Greg looked her direction guiltily. "Jackson is in jail, Calley. He was already locked up, before the assault at the Festival."
The blond woman bit her lip, but her resolve didn't falter. "I'm not crazy. I know what I heard."
"None of us think you are," Leo inserted smoothly. "Even the timing of this feels awfully fishy to me, Heff. Do you believe it would be possible for you and Katherine to get into that jail yourselves and figure out his frame of mind?"
The man smirked. "Sure. It's been a while since we were part of a shake down. This'll be fun."
Calley cleared her throat disapprovingly. "Viper isn't going to intimidate easily, Greg. When he cornered me with a couple of guys years ago, he didn't even react to Leo."
The blue-masked turtle's eyes narrowed. "I could have gotten him to react."
The woman's hands turned into clenched fists at her sides. "All I'm saying is, it may be a game to them – but it's not to us. The Dagos have a reason for what they did and for calling me out. Whatever you do in the course of a 'private' investigation, you've got to be careful."
"You guys are plotting without me?" The red-masked turtle sauntered into the kitchen, and his cross gaze circled the other three turtles and Greg. "No fair starting this early."
"We're not starting anything; we're only talking," Leo emphasized, and glanced back at Greg. "Will you and Kat go today? Can you come up with a legitimate excuse to get in with this guy?"
The man waved off the question. "Coming up with an excuse won't be a problem." He gave Calley a more serious look. "I may have called it fun, Calley, but that's only because I enjoy seeing the bad guys crack."
She shook her head. "You'd better have a good strategy going in, because he won't fluster without a fight."
Leonardo circled an arm around her waist. "It's going to be okay, Calley, I promise."
Mike couldn't fathom the look Calley gave his oldest brother in return, but then, he wasn't the one who was supposed to understand it.
Greg nodded. "I'm going to touch base with Kat then, and we'll let you guys know when we're moving."
Leo flinched suddenly. "Do you think we should say anything about this to Kelley yet?"
"I could probably get my boss to sign off on me interviewing Jackson so that it looks more legit, but I don't want to connect the dots on the shooting in New Jersey for him. Not until we have something more definitive." He exchanged an apologetic glance with Calley.
"I know how it sounds," she muttered. "I don't care. It's the truth."
"Anyway, we'll let you know," Greg finished, scooping up the reports he'd brought downstairs with him. "I'll catch up with you guys later."
As the man left, Raphael pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down backwards. "It's convenient that this guy is already locked up for 'em. Makes it easier to keep the creep in the same spot."
"But if he's been in jail for a couple of days, then it couldn't have been him last night," Calley blurted out. She heaved a giant breath that seemed entirely too large for her. "I don't know. Maybe I am just cracking."
The red-masked turtle's brow furrowed. "Says who? You've got a good gut, Calley. It's a little early to be second-guessing yourself, ain't it?"
Before the woman could answer, the small blue-masked turtle toddled back into the kitchen.
"Mommy!"
Calley's countenance instantly shifted as she reached for the two-year-old. "Morning, Tim. Did you get enough to eat?"
"Uh huh. We watchin' Gubby Buppies."
"Oh, that sounds like fun."
"Yeah, it's a circus wif' cowns. C'mon, Mommy!"
Tim wriggled in her grasp until she put him down, and allowed him to lead her by the hand into the next room.
Leonardo descended heavily into another kitchen chair, and Raphael knuckled his shoulder.
"Hey, don't worry about it, Bro," the younger turtle said.
The blue-masked turtle met his gaze with a shrug, but didn't say anything.
Raphael shifted the subject at once. "The kids leave any food, Mikey?"
"Not much," he answered. "Karina offered to take the next wave, but I could start something else if you want."
The red-masked turtle stood with a mighty stretch. "Nah. Some toast could tide me over until she's ready to come down."
Mike barely repressed a snicker. "Uh…yeah, that's not gonna happen. Jayden must have gotten to the toaster sometime last night."
Raphael rolled his eyes. "Donny, if your kid don't stop taking apart the dang toaster we'll have to lock it up. What happened to the spare?"
Mike laughed. "That was the spare!"
The purple-masked turtle sighed. "Just add it to my list, okay? I'll get it taken care of."
Leo raised his head from where it was resting in his arms. "Your list is long enough."
"Then I suppose we'll have to go without toast until my three-year-old gets over his fascination with taking things apart."
The orange-masked turtle snorted louder. "He'll probably move on to something bigger next, like the microwave."
Don groaned. "I told Hisui she couldn't let him out of sight for very long. I swear Jayden looks for trouble. I've tried all kinds of toys to keep him occupied, but he keeps gravitating back to the small appliances."
Mike shook his head. "I can't imagine why, Donny. Apple must not fall too far from the tree."
"I swear, I was never this devious…was I?"
The two older turtles exchanged a glance.
"Maybe in a less obvious way," Leo allowed. "Have you considered giving him something to take apart?"
"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose of teaching him not to do it?"
Leonardo shook his head. "Not necessarily. I mean, he's your kid, Don. Maybe you shouldn't crush his creativity."
"His destructiveness you mean?"
"If you channel his curiosity into something he's allowed to have, maybe he won't be destructive," the blue-masked turtle explained.
Don massaged his temples. "Why don't you take that task off my hands today, and I'll focus on getting the security feed online."
Leo grinned. "Challenge accepted."
Meanwhile, Raphael seemed to have forgotten about the toaster entirely, and was rooting around in a cabinet instead. "I knew there was another box of Sugar Bombs in here!"
"Don't eat all of them, Raphy!" Michelangelo shook a finger at him.
The red-masked turtle chuckled as he dug around in another cabinet and emerged with a mixing bowl. "I think this'll do me for starters."
"Raph…"
The sight of his curly-haired wife entering the kitchen interrupted Mike's plea for his cereal. Rebecca set down a stack of folders she'd been carrying under her arm and smiled at the orange-masked turtle.
"I just started some water for Nate," she told him. "I think Tim will probably join him, because he never got a bath last night. When I'm finished with them, I need to head up to the office to finish faxing the rest of these before my deadline expires."
Mike grinned back at her. "You go ahead, Beck. I can wrangle those two in the tub, and these guys are old enough to feed themselves." He nodded toward his brothers.
"It's okay, Mike, I've got time—"
"So do I. The sooner you get everything filed, the sooner you can 'commute' home. The Congo won't save itself, y'know." He couldn't resist winking at her. It was so much fun to tease the woman about the short elevator ride to the office in the main building where she worked on her non-profit organization.
The woman sidled up against his plastron to steal a kiss. "I'll go then, but I ought to be back before lunch."
"I'll be waiting."
Michelangelo walked Rebecca to the elevator, and then returned to the long couch where the kids were hanging out. Charlotte was settled on her knees on a cushion, and Jayden was seated on the arm of the couch beside her. Tim was lying upside-down half-way off the furniture, while Olivia was leaning over the coffee table, doodling on lined paper with a magic marker. Nathaniel was scooting around on a small pedal-powered motorcycle, making a circle around the couch.
Mike cracked his knuckles and dove into the sea of children, choosing to first get the marker away from Olivia. "Is that what you're supposed to be writing with, Liv?"
The seven-year-old looked up innocently. "I couldn't find my pencil."
He held out his hand to take the marker away. "They're in the cup next to the rest of the school supplies. Your Mama always keeps a bunch sharpened."
Olivia's lip protruded in irritation. "But Charlotte took them all!"
The orange-masked turtle turned to the kitchen. "Hey, Donny! Your other kid is hoarding pencils again."
Donatello jogged into the Great Room. "I'll grab a few more from the Lab. Who needs a pencil?"
"I think Liv was trying to practice her writing," Mike told him.
The young red-masked turtle smiled brightly. "I'm making a story like you, Ojisan." (Uncle)
Michelangelo patted her shell. "Hey, that's great kid; but it'll be easier to write with a pencil. I wanna hear all of it when you're done, okay?" He clapped his hands to get the attention of the other children. "Nate, Tim, it's bath time, guys."
The smallest turtle pouted. "I watchin' Buppy Gubbies."
"No, you're taking a bath," Calley corrected, re-entering the room. "I was just starting the dryer, Mike. I can get these two in the tub."
"I have it under control, sis. Why don't you fix something for you and your husband to eat? You know Leo is helpless in there."
She smiled faintly. "We can't all cook as well as you, Mikey."
Mike reached over the back of the couch to retrieve Tim and scooped up the two-year-old under his arm. "C'mon, kid – it'll be fun. You can splash your cousin, but no more floods or the girls will take me off bath duty for good. Let's go, Nate! Park the bike and come march with me."
The five-year-old pedaled over to the wall and then hopped off to join him.
"You wanna lead the way today, Nate?"
"Yeah, let me, let me!"
"Count us off then, and we can get moving."
Nathaniel nodded with a grin. "Hut, two, three, four; hut, two, three, four!"
Michelangelo followed the young orange-masked turtle down the hall, into the oversized bathroom that had been designed specifically with the kids in mind. Mike put Tim down and untied the knot in his mask-tails, setting the blue bandana on the counter. Nate had his mask off before he even got to him.
"Daddy, can we have bubbles?" The earnestness in his son's blue-green eyes was impossible to resist.
"Not as many as last time, all right? Better let me handle the bottle." Mike tested the temperature of the water again, and motioned for the boys to get into the large tub.
Tim smiled sweetly. "I hava cup?"
Mike folded his arms with a mock stern expression. "You can each have one, but the water stays in the tub."
He reached under the cabinet for a couple of small cups, and came back to find Tim on his knees by the faucet, sticking his entire head under the running water.
"C'mon out of there, silly."
The youngest turtle giggled as he emerged, but Nathaniel wasn't amused like he normally would have been.
Mike nudged Nate's shoulder. "You okay, buddy?"
The small turtle gave him a quizzical look. "Daddy, why is Calley sad?"
Michelangelo hesitated. It wasn't unusual for Nate to pick up on behavioral shifts, but it also didn't seem necessary to explain about the attack at the Festival yet. "Don't worry about Calley, Nate. Uncle Leo and Greg are gonna make everything better."
Nate waved his arms through the building bubbles and nodded. "Okay, Daddy."
He patted his son's head, and backed away to let him play. Apple probably doesn't far fall from this tree either.
