Okay, and here's the second chapter of the day. Make sure you check out chapter 6 first, since they will probably pop-up at the same time (I forgot to include that warning when I posted chapters 4 & 5 back to back yesterday, I hope you guys didn't miss one). Thank you guys so much for all your support, especially when you take the time to leave comments. It really makes my day.

Please be warned that, while there is nothing explicit, the story touches upon the issue of child abuse.

As always, a huge thanks to ariaadagio and BelenP for their guidance and support as betas.

I hope you guys enjoy the chapter. :-)


Lecherous Tosser

Chloe had rushed to the 34th precinct across town as soon as she'd heard the news that "the guy from Lux" had been brought in for questioning regarding sexual exploitation of a minor. The allegation was hard to believe. Lucifer was many things, but he was definitely not a child molester. That wasn't the type of thing she would've missed. In fact, his unapologetic revulsion to kids in the early stages of their partnership had solidified Chloe's perception of him as a complete jerk for weeks. Of course, Trixie had taken a liking to him from the get-go. She had placed him on a pedestal ever since they first met at her school.

Jesus! Had she really know him almost three years? It seemed like yesterday that Lucifer would recoil every time Trixie got near him. Who would've thought he'd ever sit patiently while her daughter drew a unicorn on his cheek? Or that he would be sharing a bucket of popcorn with Trixie while she curled up against him during a Stranger Things marathon?

Chloe squeezed her eyes to keep the sudden moistness at bay. Sorrow had a knack of flaring up like a geyser.

Not now. Not here. Get to the bottom of this.

The exploitation accusation was completely bogus. Of that, she was certain. It had to be a mistake.

She stood behind the two-way mirror looking into the interrogation room where Lucifer had been sitting quietly for the past five minutes. His expression was somber. At one point, he got up from his seat, rounded the table, and started pacing the room like a nervous panther.

Chloe's heart did a quick summersault, the knot in her throat so thick it was almost impossible to swallow.

If the police only knew who they had locked up in that room...

Not that she didn't believe for a second he could break free with a mere snap of his fingers, but still… He was the Devil! The Devil was waiting for the cops to walk into that mundane room and ask him a series of mundane questions pertaining to the human condition.

The thought would've made Chloe laugh, if the situation weren't so fucked-up.

Lucifer stopped pacing. His Oxford blue suit was impeccable. Nobody could pull off a classic three-piece suit in the twenty-first century as masterfully as he could. He rocked them. It was a gift as perplexing as his ability to draw out people's forbidden desires. Chloe wondered what else he might be able to do. She had been witness to his physical strength. He hadn't lost control in a while, but the few displays of brutal force shortly after they met had flummoxed her.

Well, mystery solved!

The wait was making her equally restless. Detectives often used time to their advantage when questioning suspects. The longer the wait, the more anxious people got, and the easier they slipped up, especially without an attorney present. Apparently Lucifer had waived his right to an attorney. Foolish move, Chloe thought. Even if he hadn't technically been arrested. Then, a phrase that hadn't made any sense a few months ago, clicked into place like the missing piece of a 3D puzzle.

A mere time-out in her life span.

Lucifer adjusted his left cufflink. The pale overhead light made the gold look silver against his bone-white shirt. The Cambridge coat of arms was imprinted in each one, down to the finest detail. She had always been curious about those, but had never found the right time to ask him about the Cambridge connection.

Had he been a student there? A professor? If so, when?

He stopped fiddling with the cufflink, and his eyes drifted shut. Jaw clenched, he pressed his fingers to his temples with a slight grimace. He looked a little pale. But, then again, so many things appeared distorted under the dead fluorescence of interrogation lights.

Twenty minutes had passed since they had brought him in for questioning. Chloe glanced at the clock on her phone screen almost at the same time as Lucifer checked his Rolex. He muttered something the intercom couldn't pick up and let out a long exhale. Walking up to the mirror, he stopped in front of Chloe and stared.

Her heart picked up speed.

Could he see her?

Chloe swallowed dryly a couple of times.

No. She was far enough away from the window. Her side of the room was dark. He couldn't possibly…

She trembled. This was the closest they had been in three weeks. She hugged herself in a silly attempt not to feel so vulnerable. This was stupid. Even if he could see her, and that was highly improbable, what did she expect him to do? Chat up a storm?

Oh, hi, detective! I know we haven't been on the most solid of ground as of late, but if you could tell these fine chaps their accusation is utter bollocks, that'd be bloody brilliant!

Chloe huffed out a strangled almost-chuckle.

Their gaze met for a few more seconds, and she had to make a conscious effort to breathe.

Just breathe.

Lucifer lowered his head, but remained glued to the spot. He was still the handsome partner who could charm his way into anything he set his mind to. His perennial five o'clock shadow was perfectly groomed, his hair impeccably combed, and those almond-shaped eyes were still as intense and hypnotizing as she remembered. Except for the darkish circles that framed them. She'd only seen him this tired on a couple of occasions.

Had he not been sleeping? Does he even need to sleep?

Yes. Of course he did. She could attest to that.

"They're just going to ask him some routine questions."

Morena Dunn walked through the door with a pile of manila folders under her arm. She had been Chloe's roommate at the academy. They had both made detective on the same year and, though they hardly ever saw each other after being assigned to different precincts, Chloe had always admired her dedication to the job. As a woman in a man's world, Morena had worked her ass off to prove her worth. Just as Chloe had. It should've made for an epic rivalry during those gruesome weeks of police training, but they both made a solemn vow to confront all obstacles together, and that alliance had turned into a solid friendship. Today, Chloe was grateful to have her as an ally. Morena was a damned good cop. And, though her designation was also homicide, she had been the one who'd given Chloe a heads up about Lucifer.

"He hasn't been arrested, right?" Chloe asked.

"No. They want to hear his side of the story. You know how this goes." Morena shrugged. "For some reason, he hasn't contacted an attorney. I'd assumed he knew better."

"He does."

Chloe couldn't make sense of why he wouldn't have called an attorney. What exactly did he have up his sleeve?

"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding," Chloe said. "I know him. He'd never…"

Never was a long time, she realized. Literally. But she couldn't imagine Lucifer crossing that line. No. Despite everything she'd come to learn in recent weeks, the accusation was preposterous.

"Chloe," Morena said, tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind her ear and licking her lips. "There's something you ought to know before we start."

Her tone was dire. She might as well have been waving red flags while loud sirens went off in the background.

"Okay," Chloe said warily.

"One of the alleged victims is your daughter."

The words echoed in Chloe's brain as the room started spinning. Everything blurred out of focus for a surreal second. She chuffed out an incredulous scoff as images of Lucifer whispering mysteriously to Trixie at his penthouse swirled around her brain.

"N-no." Chloe shook her head, punctuating her denial with a frown. "He's come over to our house many times. Trixie would've said something."

Morena offered Chloe a sympathetic smile. She didn't say what they were both thinking: "You know better than to use such logic as a justification."

Chloe sighed. "Look, I know his reputation precedes him, but he's not… he's not a child molester."

The words left a bitter aftertaste.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Morena was the first one to break eye contact. She turned her attention to her oval-shaped mood ring, a gift her mother had left her before passing away. It was supposed to change color based on the wearer's mood though, in Chloe's eyes, the ring had always looked dark blue.

"It's really none of my business," Morena began quietly, "but is there something going on between you two?"

The question hit Chloe in the gut. She swallowed hard a couple of times. "No. We just… I... No."

Morena nodded, but didn't push the matter further.

"I'm sure it's all a misunderstanding," she offered in the end. "We'll get to the bottom of it."

"He'd never do such a thing, Rena," Chloe assured her through a forced smile.

But her mind was a jumble of confusion and doubt.

Hey, Monkey. What did Lucifer tell you right before we left?

Nothing. Just stuff.

Just stuff…

She blinked back tears as she stared at her partner through the oversized window. He was now leaning against the table, arms folded in a posture oddly uncharacteristic of him. But so were these outrageous allegations. Unfortunately, she had refused to believe many things that had turned out to be true as of late.

Still. This was Lucifer!

Chloe felt a shiver run up her spine.

This was… Lucifer.

The identity behind the name made her break into a cold sweat.

Two austere-looking cops walked into the room, and Lucifer straightened. They invited him to sit down and, for a moment, Lucifer looked like he might refuse, but soon acquiesced without saying a word.

"Mr. Morningstar, have you decided to proceed without an attorney?"

"Yes," Lucifer confirmed without hesitation.

"Very well, then."

Chloe found out the two detectives' names were Da Silva and Moore.

They ran through the preliminaries without a hitch: name, address, age… Officially, Lucifer had just turned forty. Chloe shook her head at that. How long would he be able to keep up that charade? In twenty more years, people might think he'd discovered the fountain of youth.

"Do you know a woman by the name Audrey Reynolds?" Da Silva asked.

Lucifer sighed, his patience seeming to run low. "No. Should I?"

The stockier detective, Moore, slid a picture of a pretty young woman across the table. She had auburn hair and a radiant smile worthy of the best Colgate ad.

"She claims to know you, Mr. Morningstar."

"Many people claim to know me."

"She claims to know you intimately," Da Silva stated darkly.

Lucifer smirked. "Does she, now?"

"I wouldn't sound so flippant, sir. She's only sixteen."

"And I'm sure she has a brilliant modeling career ahead of her," Lucifer deadpanned. "But I've never seen that girl before, and I'm certainly not a lecherous tosser who gets his jollies by shagging children."

Da Silva stared at Lucifer for several long seconds before putting the picture away. He shuffled through the file and took out another picture. It was a headshot of Trixie. Chloe recognized it immediately. The picture was from the yearbook at her school. Lucifer went from aloof to alert before the cop had a chance to slide the picture across the table.

"Do you recognize this child?" Da Silva asked, his voice even.

Lucifer offered them a faint nod. "Yes. She's my part— She's Detective Decker's spawn."

The cop frowned. "She's what?"

"Her daughter," Lucifer said, his voice low. "Detective Decker's daughter."

"Do you know her name?"

"Beatrice."

"Do you know her age?"

"She turned nine a couple of months ago."

"Do you know her favorite color, bedtime story, food…?

"I don't know her favorite color. The detective has said she's read her a bedtime story called 'Coraline' more times than she can count, and the child loves chocolate cake."

"Right," the detective said, nodding slowly. "Is that what you used to lure her into your penthouse last night?"

Lucifer's gaze darkened. "I beg your pardon?"

"A witness has placed the child, Beatrice Espinoza, at your place after sundown. The witness also claims you were in a robe at the time. Plus we've obtained security video footage of the girl entering your building at around 8:07 last night."

"What you are suggesting is preposterous!" Lucifer snarled. "I would never lay a finger on that child! She's like my—! I told you! I don't sleep with children."

"I'm afraid we can't just take your word for it, Mr. Morningstar," Moore spoke for the first time.

Lucifer appeared calm, but only to those who didn't know him as well as Chloe. He was about to snap. The detectives didn't have a clue who they were dealing with. That ought to terrify her.

"I do not lie, detectives," Lucifer said sounding dangerous. "You can—"

He hissed in pain as his hands flew to his temples, cutting whatever he was going to say short. Chloe took a step forward. His grimace was one of sheer agony. The halogen lights overhead flickered several times, turned off for a long moment, then came back on. Da Silva and Moore made a fleeting comment about a possible power surge, their attention back on their suspect as soon as the lights came back on.

Lucifer was breathing through clenched teeth, slowly regaining his composure while the two detectives clearly wondered if he was putting on a show. Chloe knew he wasn't.

"Are you okay, sir? Do you need some water?" Da Silva offered.

"I'm not a plant," Lucifer snarled.

The detectives exchanged a bewildered glance, and Lucifer rolled his eyes.

"I don't need water!"

His gaze shifted, past his interrogator's shoulders, into the mirror. His stare fell squarely on Chloe and her breath hitched.

"Since you haven't placed me under arrest," Lucifer said, "I'd like to leave. Now."

[To Be Continued…]