When Kate returned home, it was more subdued than normal. Alexis was reading a new chapter book, curled up on one end of the couch, her eyes moving fast with the action on the page. Carrie had pulled down the photo albums, her favorite activity during quiet time, and was cooing over the older pictures of herself, her curls obscuring her face as she hunched over.
As Kate pressed a kiss to the top of Alexis' head, the girl leaned into her, acknowledging her presence, but still refusing to tear her eyes from the page in front of her. "Good book?" Kate's voice seemed out of place in the quiet room, the sound amplified. Alexis' grunt of approval seemed to fit more, the girl pulling the book closer and adjusting her posture. Kate ran her fingers along her braids, admiring her husband's handiwork as she spoke again, this time her voice ore of a whisper. "I'll let you get back to it then." She didn't expect a response back, just watched the smile dance over her daughter's features, and moved instead to the younger body on the floor.
Carrie greeted her with a bit more enthusiasm, grinning and throwing her arms around her mother's neck. "You're home!"
"I am!" Kate's hands ran up and down her daughter's spine, feeling the energy that Carrie always emitted right below her fingertips. It always made her feel better after a grueling day, reinvigorating her for the rest of the night. It was almost better than a cup of coffee. As Carrie pulled herself away from her mother's embrace, Kate took a look at the photo albums Carrie had spread out on the floor. "What are you looking at, Bean?"
The young girl's fingers traced over Oliver's first baby picture, her eyebrows furrowing. "Does Tater Tot look like I did when I was a baby?"
In response, Kate reached for the album she knew was filled with pictures of Carrie. She flipped until she found a picture of Carrie when she was around five months, as old as Oliver is now. Their face shape was similar, and they had the same little pointed nose. His hair wasn't as curly as Carrie's was, but it did have Kate's natural wave. And his eyes were darker than his father's, a fact that Kate had been upset about at first. Now she had grown accustomed to seeing her own eyes staring back at her every time she played with her son. Kate's hand traced the outline of the baby in the picture's face, her chest squeezing as she realized that her little girl would never be that small again. "I don't know, you tell me."
Carrie studied the picture, her eyes squinted so tight in concentration that Kate had to bite back laughter. When she looked up, her expression was set with determination that Rick always said she got from her. "I think he kind of looks like me. But he still looks like himself too."
Kate pressed a kiss to her cheek, letting her flip through the pages at her whim, and rose to her feet. "I'm glad. Where's Dad?"
"He's writing. Tater Tot is sleeping." Her voice quieted from a normal volume down to a whisper, her finger coming up in front of her lips in a warning.
With that, Kate understood the reason for the odd quiet time. She understood all too well how hard it could be to sleep in a house that was always teeming with life. And while that provided excitement for her, it made things tough for a cranky infant who was just doing his job.
Inside her husband's office, she was met with a sight that made her heart soar. Oliver was curled on his chest, while he leaned back in his seat, his fingers falling ever so lightly over the keys. The noise stopped as Rick looked up, offering her an inviting smile, his hand coming up from the keys to rub soothing circles into Oliver's back. "He's been really grumpy today. I could only get him to nap like this, the crib is his worst enemy or something."
As he spoke, she watched the expression of joy wash over his face, his blue eyes lighting up as he gazed down at the sleeping body on his chest. "Something tells me it doesn't bother you, though." Kate teased.
At that, her husband's grin grew. "Not even a little bit." He arched his back, holding onto the baby so he wouldn't fall, the grimace clear despite his efforts to hide it.
"How long have you been sitting like that?"
He shrugged, meeting her eye. "Not long. Maybe an hour?"
The chuckle fell from her mouth before she could stop it. "Oh, is that all?" She held her arms out. "Let me take him for a bit." She ignored his protests that it might not work, that their son was crankier than usual, and not to take it personally, and lifted Oliver to her chest. Her heart raced as he fussed at first, but his content sigh as his head rested just below her chin made breathe out a sigh of relief. She settled into a natural rocking motion as she stood, her hands clutching him close and feeling his breath, her lips placing a kiss on the crown of his head. She focused her eyes on the computer, still rocking with their son. "How is Derrick doing?"
Rick shrugged, closing the top of his computer. "He's doing alright, I guess. I want to revisit this chapter when I'm less distracted."
Her cheeks warmed. "What could possibly be distracting you right now?"
"Well, for one, you're standing there, looking as radiant as ever while you hold our son. For two, it is entirely too quiet in this loft, which is weird. Also, I haven't started anything for dinner because some little boy was asleep on me, and my stomach is growling, so I think we need to order something in."
Her raised eyebrow made him chuckle, his eyes watching her features, looking for clues as he tried to figure out what she was thinking. "You work better when the house is noisy?"
She laughed as his eyes grew wide, making Oliver startle on her chest. "That's what you got from all of that?"
Instead of answering, she moved to one of the chairs, leaning back against the leather and freeing one of her hands, the other running through Oliver's fine hair as he resettled. She tried to control her giggles, worried that her shaking would startle the baby awake. "No, I got it all. I understand." She pointed toward the door with her head. "Go order whatever you're in the mood for. I'm not picky."
"You say that now." He teased, watching her with scrutinous eyes as he left, making her laugh even more. Even when it was quiet, home was never dull.
Oliver woke almost fifteen minutes after Rick left. Pushing himself away from his mother's chest, he blinked, dazed, the sleep still clouding his vision. Kate's hand returned to his head, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair as she cooed at him. "Hi sweet boy. I heard you were grumpy today?" His answering coo and wide grin said otherwise, his eyes wrinkling in the corners just like his father's did. "Is it just because Daddy gave you a late nap? Or did you make nap time difficult?" Both his hands came up to pinch at her face, one of them finding her hair and latching on. She leaned down to kiss his face in response, burying her face in his chubby neck. "Yes baby, I'm home."
In the kitchen, she placed him in his high chair, where Rick had already laid out a few pieces of avocado and banana. He raked the food closer to himself with his fingers, a single dimple appearing in his left cheek as he grinned, proud of the food stuck between his fingers. Carrie giggled from her seat as she watched him, her plate still empty as she waited for Rick to fill it. "Tater's fingers are green!"
Kate laughed, picking a piece of avocado off of his tray and popping it into her mouth. "I think he's trying to make guacamole."
From the other side of the table, Alexis sneered, her face wrinkling in disgust. "Guacamole with Thai food? Gross!"
Kate shrugged as she took her seat next to Carrie. "You never know until you try it, Lex. How do you know it's gross?"
She shuddered, pulling her glass of apple juice closer to her. "It just sounds gross."
Bath time was quick that night. Rick took care of Oliver and his green face while Kate followed Carrie upstairs. All she ever needed to do now was help with Carrie's hair, her curls making it hard for the young girl to get all the soap out. Sometimes she played in the bath, sometimes she didn't, it all depended on what she wanted to do afterward. Today she wanted Kate to read a longer book, so she hurried herself. Once she declared that she was all done, Kate helped her out of the bath, wrapping a Hello Kitty towel around her tiny frame and spraying detangler in her hair. Alexis showered while they got dressed, old enough now to not need help, the wolf howls she used to do a thing of the past. Usually, Alexis was done showering and changing by the time Kate got Carrie's hair in a long french braid, only a few little ringlets hanging loose.
"Can you read a Junie B. book, Mumma?" Carrie asked, holding out one of the chapter books and looking up with dark pleading eyes.
As Kate sunk down on the bed, she yawned, her long day starting to catch up with her. "How about if I read half of it tonight, and the other half tomorrow, and, another short book?"
Alexis watched on with amusement as Carrie thought it over, her eyes squinted as she thought. "That sounds good."
So Kate fought to stay awake, reading a book about an eccentric young girl whose life always seemed to be exciting. Despite the excitement, Carrie was falling asleep on Kate's arm as she read, and Alexis seemed to be zoning out, her blue eyes fixated on a point behind Kate's head, so Kate decided to end a little early.
Carrie didn't protest when the book went away. She just stretched and burrowed further into her covers. As she kissed Carrie goodnight, Alexis pulled out her own book again to continue reading, her little light turned on the table next to her. "Just a few minutes longer, okay? Please don't stay up all night." Kate told her, running her fingers through her bright, thin hair.
The young girl yawned in response, and played with the bookmark in her fingers. "Don't worry. I just want to finish this chapter."
"Okay, Pumpkin. I love you."
Alexis stretched up for one more kiss. "I love you too."
Downstairs, Rick was laying Oliver down in his crib, shushing the little boy's fussing and soothing him with a soft hand rubbing his cheek. Kate took the time to pour them each a glass of wine, knowing all too well what would happen if she brought attention to herself. Oliver was a mama's boy. He clung to her every moment he could, his hands always wrapped in her hair. And if there was ever a time where he was passed around, she was always forced to stay nearby. It was amazing that Rick had been able to get him to bed on his own, and she didn't want to ruin that by announcing that she was in the room.
After a few minutes, he appeared in the living room, sans baby, with a triumphant look on his face. "I did it, he's down." He flopped down on the couch next to her, accepting his glass of wine graciously, his feet coming up to rest on the coffee table.
"I always was drawn to your strange ability to put babies to sleep." She teased, taking a sip before returning her eyes to the notebook in her lap.
"Well, that only worked with Carrie. Oliver likes you better."
The statement made her smile. "I know. I can't imagine why. I feel like your voice is just so much more soothing than mine." The number of times she'd fallen asleep with just the sound of his voice telling stories, whispering praises, and imagining the future, were too numerous to count. Also, there was something about the way he held her, the way he held everyone he loved, that just reminded her that everything was alright, as long as she was in his arms.
"Have you heard the way you sing lullabies though? All soft and warm, the sound just curling around you like silk. It draws him in." At that, she blushed. Her voice wasn't anything special. Her husband had been raving about it ever since the day he caught her singing on the baby monitor. Before she could respond, her paperwork caught the attention of Rick, who leaned in to see what she was writing. "Is this your weird case?"
She tucked the pages away, out of view of his prying eyes. It didn't matter who he was, or that he may understand the mind of a serial killer better than anyone on her team, he wasn't allowed to look at her files. "Yes. We have a suspect, I have to interview him tomorrow."
"Ooh!" His eyes lit up. "How are you gonna do it? Are you gonna play good-cop bad-cop?"
"Rick!" Her voice was louder than she wanted it to be, and she waited to see if the baby in the next room would start crying. After a few moments of silence, she continued, lowering her voice. "Interrogation is an art form in and of itself. You need to know whether or not the suspect trusts the police, or whether they've had any run ins with the law. Sometimes you have to know how they feel about women and minorities, so the best detective can get in there to either get under their skin, or relate with them on a personal level. We don't just play good-cop bad-cop!"
He leaned closer, trying to peek at her files. "I know. I was just wondering."
She hid papers from his view, turning the file upside down on the table next to her, hiding even the victim's name from his wandering eyes. She turned back to look at him, a cheeky grin etched into her features as she met his baby blues. "Can I help you?"
"I think the real question is, can I help you" His eyebrows wiggled playfully, and she laughed in spite of the tough exterior she was trying to project.
Even though McNulty would have cringed if he knew, she opened the file, allowing her curious husband to look through. Knowing him, he would have stolen it while she was sleeping anyway. "If you were Derrick," she started, pushing her notes about Alonzo Cortes in his direction, "how would you handle this?"
She went into her interrogation the next day armed with a plan. And after running it by McNulty, she found herself in the room, alone, with their only suspect. He sat across the table, his shoulders hunched, his eyes frantic as he studied the room. He looked to be almost forty, with dark eyes and sandy hair. And from the fearful expression he shot her, he didn't seem to like being in that room at all. "Hello Mr. Cortes. You're probably wondering why we pulled you in here?" At his slow nod, she sat, offering him a fake smile, hoping he might trust her. "We just have some routine questions to ask."
At this, the man in front of her relaxed, taking years off his face as his eyes softened. "The cop who brought me in said homicide. Please tell me, is my family okay?"
Her heart fell at his words, and for a moment she wondered if he was even guilty. "Yes Mr. Cortes, your family is fine." She shuffled the crime scene photos to the back of the pile. "You do handiwork for a whole host of buildings in the city."
Cortes nodded, looking away from her, his eyes flickering as he thought. "I count maybe forty buildings? I don't know, I go where they tell me to."
"Did you go to the buildings of Monica Raymond, Dillon Smith, and Donovan Pike?" As she said each name, she placed a DMV photo down, searching his face for any sort of recognition. Nothing flashed across his face. Not pride, no remorse, not even sadness, leading her to believe that he didn't even know they were dead.
He studied the pictures, looking deep into their eyes, before locking eyes again with Kate and shrugging. "To be honest, I don't always see the people I'm doing work for. Sometimes I go because the super said it was okay. If you say I did work in their apartments, it's probably true." He leaned back in his seat. "What happened to these people?"
His concern seemed genuine, paired with softening eyes and falling shoulders, so she held back the photos of the crime scenes and instead just pointed at the DMV photo she'd already set out. "Well, Ms. Raymond was killed two weeks ago. Mr. Smith was found dead about nine days ago, and then two nights ago, someone found Mr. Pike. They were all tied up and shot at close range, and so far, you're the only connection we've found."
Cortes' eyes grew wide, and his hands flew to the sides of his head. He shook his head, muttering to himself as he held back tears. 'You don't understand, I could never do something like this."
She'd be lying if she said she'd never heard that before, oftentimes it was the real killer trying to look innocent. Except Alonzo didn't look like he was trying, the fear on his face seemed genuine. So she dropped her tough exterior and stopped searching for cracks in his, and instead offered him a pen. "So prove it. Give me an airtight alibi for one of these days, and I promise, you'll walk out of here today with our thanks."
His shoulders relaxed, and he stared back at her with a determination she hadn't seen from anyone sitting across the table from her. "What were the dates again?"
"The fourth, the eighth, and the seventeenth."
It didn't take him as long as she would have thought, his shoulders dropping with relief, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "The seventeenth. I was out of state, in Chicago, at a funeral for my Mother-in-law."
"You have witnesses that can corroborate that?"
"Are you kidding, I've got loads."
She pushed her notebook across the table. "Names and numbers, please." The pen moved fast in his hand, the list of people who could vouch for him growing steadily. "And we'll have to check it real quick, but you can go within the hour." His grunt of gratitude was all she got in response. And she watched in silence as each name he wrote washed away the only lead they had. This was going to be a tough ride.
A/N: As always, thanks again Brandi for the beta!