AAAAAAAAAAAAND she's back! Last week of the semester. No, I don't really have time to be doing this, but I am anyways. I will have roughly two weeks afterwards that I can write. I am sorry, you all, for taking so long and proffering so little. My deepest apologies.

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He pulled into the office pale as a tendon and angry.

Raylan leaned back in his chair, took him in, and said nothing. He'd seen the look. Art stuck his head out the door of his office.

"Hey Tim."

Gutterson set his bag down on his desk and raised a brow.

"Come on in here, son."

Rachel's head jerked up from her desk and she exchanged a glance with Raylan.

Tim walked down the alley between the desks in the bullpen, acutely aware that Something was Up and that he had absolutely NO support system.

He stepped through the door and Art half smiled at him. "Shut that door."

Tim shut the door and sat down, wishing he'd dropped his jacket back at his desk. Getting hot under the collar was not a good thing when the boss was about to tell you something he didn't want anybody else to hear.

Art sat down behind his desk and pinned him up against that glass wall with his eyes. Gutterson waited.

Art Mullin was unsure how to address the situation, so he started out bluntly. "What's got a burr under your saddle about this South girl? Hmm?"

"Nothin' that…"

Art held up hand. "Na na na. I don't let Raylan play the emotionally damaged card. I'm not letting you do it either."

Tim took a long breath, hauled his wallet out, and flopped down the picture of Kathleen. It was tattered around the corners. That umber hair was down, the dress was coral, and she was balancing on the edge of a fountain, poised like a dancer. Black frame glasses on the tip of her nose. Grace, she was. Everything she was.

Art picked it up carefully. He turned it over. Looked at the two different styles of handwriting. Looked at the dates. He set the photo down just as carefully.

There was a silence. Art took it in and silently offered the bottle of bourbon from his desk drawer. "Hair of the dog," he said, and Tim took a pull. Gutterson handed the bottle back and Art began to speak.

"You know how long it would have taken me to admit that whenever I was your age?"

Tim shook his head.

"Problem is that you're letting it happen."

"Yeah." He took a long breath and let go of a half-apologetic smile.

"I did a little bit of nosing around her."

"Yeah?"

"She's um…interesting."

"Kath….uh…Evie?"

"Evie. Evan Riffe has two bullet holes in his body compliments of her. That's if you're reading through the lines on the hospital report."

Tim cocked his head.

Art did that giggle of his again. "It appears that he walked up on her sister's porch for the third time and broke a window. Evie shot him through the broken glass, walked out, picked him up by the lapels and hauled him to the ER, where she coolly walked out after giving her statement."

He shook his head, half laughing. "Kathleen would have rolled him off the porch into the flowers and left him there."

"That's the difference between the woman that burnt you and the woman you're mad at, son."

Gutterson's eyes were too open to be honest, and Art handed him back the bottle.

"What did she do to you?"

"Art I…."

"Then don't. But get it open and put some sun on that wound. And don't you dare hold back the pursuit of justice because you're hurting over something you can't change. You understand me?"

Tim nodded, solemn.

"Do you understand me, Deputy Gutterson?"

He straightened again. "Yes sir, I understand."

"Alright then. Go talk to that girl. Take Raylan with you. Get her safe."

Tim rose from the chair, calm. "Sir yes sir."

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They met her at a park in Lexington, Evan and his dragonfly were out playing on the swing set, sailing high on the canvas and chain. Raylan sat on one side of the bench, nearly silent for a change. Tim did the talking. He told her about talking to Bobby. He told her about talking to her father, and to Heather, and to someone they both knew as Solomon, and she nodded, understanding.

"So I guess my question, Miss South, is this. What, if any, contact, do you have with Evan Riffe?"

"You mean besides the Livewire I've got on his car?"

Tim raised a brow. That was a four hundred dollar system, and when you're a….mechanic….

She almost hissed at him. "None. NONE other than to track the location of that car and to make note of any changes in his fucking routine. Is that what was taking you so long?"

"What do you mean?" Raylan drawled, as curious as she, his eyes twisted Tim's way.

"Is that why you haven't offered WITSEC? Because you thought I was in contact with…."

Tim's eyes were down on the sandstone gravel. He wanted to apologize, but that wouldn't cut it and he knew it.

She almost rared back and slapped Tim Gutterson in the mouth, and at that particular moment, Raylan would have allowed it. Just because you know how the world works doesn't mean you know how Kentucky, and let alone Harlan functions. And the boy had forgotten, utterly forgotten, the 'x' factor a family brought to the table.

Oh she was mad. "You mean to tell me you put my nephew at risk because you thought I….!"

The look that crossed Tim's face spoke reams, and she understood them. She was brutal.

You disgust me, Deputy Gutterson. Really you do. Evan's my KID. I am his

GODMOTHER! And you…..!"

"Sorry doesn't cut it. I know." He huffed. Brought his game face up to hers. Raylan remained quiet. "What kind of resources do you have?" Tim needed to know this, for whatever reason.

She took a breath. "I've got more than enough. Between what you're offering and the connections I've got-we could go overseas if we needed to."

Tim wanted to get riled at that, and he had no idea why. He didn't though, and the deed occurred.

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"Just look after my daddy," she'd said.

Tim made a point to drive out there every now and then. The Pyrenees cross adopted him, and after the third time the dog followed Tim out to the highway, Manny South let Tim keep him.

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AN: The Livewire ATX is a tracking system that you can get a subscription to that will either update every five seconds or every ten, depending on which program you've got. You put the sucker on a car and you pay to have a GPS/GSM system keep track of its location. It's almost five hundred dollars by itself, and if you get the ever five seconds update subscription, you'll pay almost fifty dollars a month. I wouldn't do it myself, but if I were Evie South, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

P.S. I like the idea of Tim having a dog.