They waited. Kasia stretched. Breathed. Kept all thoughts of Al steadfastly from her thoughts. Failed. Julian watched her cannily.

"You gonna tell me?"

"Not right now."

"He's coming," Julian whispered.

"Go bring him in." Kasia leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, listening to Julian's pleasant greeting outside, the niceties he ginned up while ushering Mercer into the box. Mercer's bravado evaporated when he caught sight of her.

"Have a seat, Officer," she said icily. She lifted her chin toward the door, and Julian closed it and lowered the blind over the one-way glass of the observation window.

"I'll be recording our conversation, Officer Mercer." A video camera was already set up and waiting.

"What's this about?" Mercer asked, his voice high and tight, eyes darting myopically.

Everything in the room was white. Kasia had seen to it when they first moved in at 21. She and Julian had painted the walls and the floor themselves. Blinding white. The table, the chairs, the window blinds. The eye was naturally drawn to the only source of color in the room: the detectives. Kasia had even removed the tiny red bulb from the video camera. Nowhere to run.

Kasia had not moved, and made no attempt to introduce herself or shake Mercer's hand. She lifted her eyes to signal Julian to begin.

"We thought you might be able to help us with an investigation. Three missing girls. 1987. One of them lived in your neighborhood." Julian flipped over the photo of Chynelle Kenner and pushed it gently towards Mercer. "Do you remember her, Grant?"

"No."

"We were told you knew her. Used to walk home from school with her."

"Who told you that?"

"Someone close to her."

Kasia watched Mercer's adam's apple bob up and down. Once. Twice.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who she is. I wish I could help."

"Your dad knew who she was, Grant," said Kasia, inching closer. "She was Octavius Kenner's niece. You remember that name, don't you?" Kasia moved slowly behind Mercer, placing a firm hand on each of his shoulders. She heard a thump at the door that was Athena settling on the other side. Kasia leaned down until her lips were nearly touching his ear.

"Octavius Kenner was Marcus Haines' cousin. I know you remember Marcus, Grant. The man who shot Amelia."

Mercer tried to shoot up out of the chair, but Kasia held him down. Mercer's knees were shaking. Kasia glanced at Julian, nodding imperceptibly. Julian smiled sympathetically at Mercer. "We regret having to tear open old wounds, Grant. It's necessary to find Chynelle's killer," he said.

Kasia let Mercer breathe, counting to twenty. She moved back into Mercer's line of sight, sitting primly on the edge of the table, still in his personal space, the space referred to as the 'kill zone' in the IDF. Mercer was radiating heat. She let another ten seconds pass. Mercer steadied himself. He was about to respond.

Kasia slammed her fist down hard on the table, the impact reverberating up the bones of her arm. "Come on, Mercer! We're not talking about a few drowned kittens here! Four girls are missing and presumed dead." Athena barked sharply once from the other side of the door.

Kasia flipped over another photo. "Raniqua Tipton." Another. "Jade Mouton." The last photo she pushed closer to Mercer than the others. "Penelope Higgins."

"I had nothing to do with any of them," wailed Mercer.

"Then who did?" Kasia hissed, waiting feverishly for Mercer to invoke his right to counsel, surprised he hadn't already. Still clinging to hope that he would somehow come out of this free of the shroud of guilt that clung to him.

"I know you're complicit, Mercer. I know where they're buried. There's still time for you to get out in front of this. Don't take the fall for him."

"You were just a kid," Julian interjected. "A jury would have compassion for your situation, Grant. Abusive father who made you do horrible things. Made you deny what you really are. Just tell us what happened." Julian's gray eyes were beseeching, brimming over with sympathy, with real tears. Kasia marveled at his prowess. "He called you a fairy, didn't he? Made you feel small? Worthless? My dad did, too."

"I'm not a fag," spat Mercer.

"When the shit hits the fan you're going to get splattered first, Mercer," Kasia said tonelessly. "Your parole officer hasn't even been born yet. We'll bury you."

"I'm not answering any more questions. You can both go fuck yourselves. I want your badge numbers for the complaint I'm going to file."

"Make sure you spell my name right," Kasia replied with a hint of laughter.

Mercer rose from the chair and shot Kasia a withering glance. He towered over her. She shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, unflinching, ready. Mercer's fists were balled up at his sides.

"Go ahead," said Kasia sweetly. "Give me a reason, Mercer."

A strangled sound issued from Mercer's throat, and he spun, flinging the door open. Athena regarded him cooly, and Kasia let him sweat for a few seconds before calling the dog off. Mercer tore away, slamming through the back exit for the parking lot.

"Now we wait," said Julian smugly.

They didn't have to wait long. In the time it took Kasia to get Athena a treat from her office, her phone began to vibrate. It was Al.

"Hey. Mercer's on the line with his father. Get up here."


Kasia flew up the stairs and down the main floor corridor. She skidded to a stop in front of Trudy, pointing up toward the cage that barred entry to Intelligence. Trudy nodded, her sleek, shoulder-length bob that was threaded liberally with gray swinging. She buzzed Kasia up.

Al was waiting at the top of the stairs. Kasia killed the smile that threatened at the sight of him. He crooked a thumb toward the IT guy's alcove. The tech's name eluded Kasia momentarily. She bumped fists with him anyway when he offered his in greeting. She stood chewing a thumbnail as the tech played back the recording of the call Grant Mercer had just made.

"Dad. I was just questioned about...them."

"Them who?" a gruff voice drawled.

"The girls. Kenner, and the others."

"Questioned by who?"

"Some bitch Cold Case Sergeant from 21, and her faggot lackey. They know."

There was an agitated pause before Max Mercer replied. "They don't know shit, or you'd be under arrest, and so would I. Woods told me they might be sniffing around. Looks like the son of a bitch was right for a change."

A look of pure malice passed between Olinsky and Voight. Hank's jaw worked, his eyes two dark barbs."Jagoff," he spat.

"Does he mean Lieutenant Woods?" Kasia asked, incredulous.

"This city is gonna explode," Al said softly, nodding.

The tech continued the playback. "Don't answer any more questions," Max Mercer snapped. "I'll take care of it. Just keep your mouth shut and your head down." Grant Mercer hung up then, cutting his father off, and there was a brief silence and a rattle before his father hung up, as if he had more to say.

Kasia opened an app on her cellphone. Julian had put a tracking device on Mercer's old Blazer, and he was on the move. "Thank you," she said gravely to the tech. "Please contact me if you intercept any more calls from Grant Mercer." She nodded at Al and Hank and left quickly, sprinting down the stairs and back to her lair in the basement to grab her bag and coat.

"Athena. , go and sit on Max Mercer's place until I contact you." A minute and a half later she was on the road.


"Mom, when's dad coming home?" Lexi Olinsky asked her mother, who was staring pointedly out the kitchen window, darkness falling outside.

"Is he? Coming home?" she seethed. She hadn't heard from him in almost two days now.

"Where is he?" Lexi said with alarm. "He hasn't answered any of my texts. Is he undercover?"

With someone, no doubt, Meredith thought, thrumming with anger.

"Mom?"

"Go finish your homework. Dinner is almost ready." Meredith didn't wait for a reply, pacing wretchedly out to the garage. What am I looking for out here? Some sign? Something to hold onto when I pushed it all away in the first place? Pushed him straight to Linda Sovana, so long ago he hadn't known he had a daughter by her who was nearly grown already? Linda Sovana, and now this nameless, amorphous stranger. Meredith couldn't even conjure a mental picture of who the other woman might be. Young, or old, plain, or dazzling. All she knew for certain was that the woman would have a badge of some kind, a shared history that would draw Al in, comfort in camaraderie and a soft bed under a real roof, all those things she herself had denied, withheld, traded with like poker chips of guilt and betrayal and damn the man for his quiet dignity and earnest dedication that ran so deep she could never reach it, never use it as a weapon against him.

Until now.


No one gave Al a second look as they left Intelligence for the night, some alone and some in pairs, the sounds of their voices dwindling away as they descended the stairs, bound for Molly's or home or other private pursuits he did not care to know about. They were all used to him staying late, avoiding home. He had spent many nights here, eaten many meals from the vending machines, showered here, slept on the couch in Hank's office.

He craved the quiet tonight, time to savor the previous evening, the stolen hours with Kasia that he longed to re-live as soon as possible. Tonight he was waiting for her. If she didn't come back to the district tonight, then he would try again tomorrow night.

He read his daughter's texts and called her instead of texting her back; he hated texting and had little use for it except as a means to convey information, though he had read Kasia's text more than once in the last hour. I miss you. He could call her right now to make sure she was okay if he wasn't certain that she, like himself, kept the phone silenced when chasing down a suspect. If Mercer so much as looked at her the wrong way, or if Woods tried to fuck with her the way he had Hank and himself, they would both be going for a very long ride to a very dark place.

"I should have gone with her," he grumbled aloud, checking the view of the parking lot from the window again. Her car was still gone. Al went downstairs to hit the vending machines, dismayed to see Platt still behind the desk. She motioned him over, and he groaned inwardly.

"Still here again, Al?"

"Catching up on paperwork and monitoring someone's phone."

"Like hell you are. I know who you're waiting for. I'll give you a call when she gets in."

"Thanks, Trudy." he began sidling away uncomfortably.

"Hey, Al? Just between us, okay? I'm happy for you. You deserve this. Her."

"How'd you know, anyway?"

"The way she looks at you. Someone was bound to figure it out. I just happen to be the smartest person in the building, is all."

"Can't argue with that."

The way she looks at you. It had been a very long time since he had felt wanted by anyone for anything other than police business, tough parenting, a paycheck, shows of unquestionable loyalty or endless other tasks no one else wanted. He had never been kissed by anyone like he had by her, and the memory made his lower back ache pleasantly, made him wonder how long he had been standing in front of the vending machines, staring at his own reflection in the glass.

He had nothing to offer her but stolen moments, fragmented hours and rare nights chipped away from everything they both were, and she deserved so much more, but there was no turning back now, for either of them, and he knew she would answer him with the same words if he spoke his regrets aloud; his fear of hurting her, leaving her, losing her. He could live with regrets, but not without her. Not anymore.


Kasia parked in an alley between two beaten-looking apartment buildings that had once been art deco but were now little better than housing projects, way stations for a migrant society constantly on the move. Her car she left in good hands; pity the hapless fool who encountered Athena waiting in the shadows as she had done so many times before. Kasia whispered a command to Athena and stole away, creeping through the dim spaces between the jaundiced ovals of illumination from the streetlights.

She gained entry into Helm's building easily, shuffling along, her knit cap pulled down over her brows, hands stuffed deep into her coat pockets. Just another loser looking to score some dope or borrow some money. The grip of her sidearm was a heavy comfort in her right hand.

The apartments had recessed doorways, and Kasia ducked into one, peering out at the front entrance from behind a sickly-looking potted plant, glad for her small stature yet again. She stood only 5'1 and weighed 98 pounds, and both had gotten her through many scrapes that might have otherwise ended very badly. The top of her head barely reached Al's shoulder. She banished all thoughts of him.

The TV was droning dully in the apartment behind her hiding place. Some kind of news program or talk show, the sort of pablum she turned on at home when sleep eluded her and the job would not leave her in peace for a few hours.

Mercer strode gamely through the front entrance then, the cold air that accompanied him erasing the temptation to think of Al again, to imagine him sprawled in her bed, asleep, close and warm and present in all the ways another human being could be.

Gotcha, mouthed Kasia silently. Mercer made a beeline for the elevator. Once the door closed, squeaking in complaint, she sprinted around the corner to the staircase, knowing she would beat the old elevator to the second floor. She took the stairs by twos, making no sound, slipping into her IDF training like pulling on a favorite, well-worn shirt.

Helm lived in 2E. Kasia made it to 2C before the elevator door closed behind Mercer. She had a clear view of him closing in on Jackson Helm's apartment. Mercer hesitated, as if plagued by second thoughts, and Kasia readied herself in case he decided to walk away, right past her.

Mercer hammered on the door of 2E a few times. "Jackson! Open the door, it's Grant Mercer!" he bellowed. Kasia could hear the hollow old door rattle on its hinges as Mercer punched it again. It held.

"Open this fucking door, or I'll kick it in, Helm." The door behind Kasia was flung open instead, and she pushed the man emerging from behind it back inside, holding up her badge and urging him to silence with an index finger over her lips. A malodorous wave of overcooked cabbage hit her full in the face, and she pulled the door closed indignantly.

Mercer was too intent on his prey to notice, and there was a loud whump as he kicked the door in. Kasia could hear the torn-away deadbolt bounce off the floor, followed by a scream.

"Get out of here, Grant! Leave me alone! I've already called 911!"

"They won't get here in time, you fucking weasel, Mercer growled. "Before they do, you're gonna tell me why you've been talking about me to cops from my district. You should be glad it isn't my father here instead."

"There's an investigation," pleaded Helm. "Those missing girls, from when we were kids."

"I know that, asshole. Told them all about me, didn't you, buddy? Why?"

Kasia crept closer, so the voice recorder in her pocket could capture every word clearly.

"They just want to find out where that little girl is, Grant. Chynelle, and the others. So the families can have some peace."

"What about my family, you stupid fuck? Get up, you're coming with me."

"Get out of here, Grant! Don't touch me!" Helm let out a strangled cry that was abruptly cut off.

Kasia edged closer, her back sliding against the wall, her gun cocked and leading the way in front of her. A kid across the hall was watching the action, peeping out from beneath the door chain. Kasia motioned at him with the muzzle of the gun to close the door.

"Drop him, Mercer!" Kasia cried. Mercer's hands were wrapped around Helm's scrawny neck, squeezing. Mercer gaped at her in disbelief, then released Helm, lunging at her as she had hoped he would. As he closed in, she brought her knee up hard into his groin. When he folded in pain she drove her elbow down into the back of his neck, her knee shooting up again to connect with his forehead. Pain from the blow radiated up her leg, but she ignored it. Mercer lay prostrate on the floor, retching and gasping for air. Kasia wrenched his arms back and cuffed him, resisting the urge to kick him in the face.

"Jackson, do you need an ambulance?"

Helm shook his head weakly, sucking in great gouts of air, his neck striped with bruises that would be black by morning. Kasia got him to the couch, brought him some water from the small kitchen, and sat with him until he felt able to speak.

"Thank God you were here. Have you been following him?" Jackson wheezed.

"Following a hunch. He'll be charged with breaking and entering and assault, and I'll add on resisting arrest. I'm sorry I put you in danger, Jackson. I'll assign you a security detail, until this is over."

"If his father finally has to pay for everything he's done, it'll be worth it."

"You sure you don't want me to take you to the hospital?"

"Yeah. Just get that pusbag out of my apartment and put him in a cage."

"With pleasure." Kasia hauled Mercer to his feet. He was remarkably pliant now, and she danced him drunkenly down the hall to the elevator, the sounds of his moaning punctuating every step, the muzzle of her gun jammed into a kidney as motivation to keep moving.

Once she had dumped him into the backseat of her car, Kasia let Athena handle him, warning him the dog would tear his throat out at one word from her if he made any kind of move, and he was quiet all the way back to the district, and numb by the time the duty officer rolled the door closed on him in lockup. She moved briefly out of Mercer's earshot and called Julian and told him to go home; then she made another call to arrange for two unis in an unmarked car to take the next shift at Max Mercer's place. When she was done, she signalled the duty officer to give her a few moments alone with Mercer.

"Well, Grant. Here we are again, only this time you'll be peeing blood for a week. Are you ready to tell me what really happened now?" Mercer stared at some fixed point on the floor only he could see, his eyes sunken in pain.

"How long are you going to cover for him, Mercer? You put your career on the line tonight. How much more are you willing to give up to protect your father?"

"It's all good. I never wanted to be a cop anyway."

She changed course, wishing Julian were here. He was far better at this than she was. "I'm sure you never wanted to be his accomplice, either. You were dealt a bad hand. If you cooperate now, I'll do my best to make sure the District Attorney knows that. I'm offering you a chance here. I suggest you take it."

He shook his head dumbly. "You don't understand how deep it goes."

"Then tell me."

"I have the right to remain silent. I'm exercising that right." He lifted his bloodshot eyes and dismissed her with a glance. She said nothing more to him, and he was booked and informed he would be transferred to county lockup to await arraignment. She limped tiredly back downstairs to shut the lights off and head for home, her knee throbbing.


Al was stretched out in the one of the chairs near the Cold Case bullpen table, his fingers steepled, lost in thought until she broke his reverie.

Hey, Cookie," he said. "You okay?"

"Yeah. I just collared Grant Mercer for assaulting my C.I. I used him as bait."

"His dad will probably post bond by morning."

"I know. His career is finished. He still won't give his father up."

"You shouldn't be out there dragging the trash back in by yourself, sweetheart."

"One of the hazards of running your own crew. We're a small unit. Sometimes it can't be helped. Al, what's the deal with Woods? Why would he want to jam me up on this case? I've never had any dealings with him."

"Woods has a hard-on for Hank going back thirty years, and anyone loyal to him. Voight and Woods were partners, once upon a time. Woods has done his best to ruin us over the years. Woods and Max Mercer have a history, too, a history of scratching each other's backs like two monkeys picking lice off of each other. They have a lot in common. Woods will cover Mercer's ass, and his own in the process. Anyone connected to me or Hank is in Woods' sights. Woods will try to make it look as if shutting down your case is his way of protecting the city and CPD from the PR nightmare Mercer's arrest would cause, but in reality he'll just fan the flames of public unrest instead."

"To divert the focus off himself."

"Among other things. I'll tell you about some of Woods' finer moments when the time is right. Come over here, please." He held out a hand to her, pulling her into his lap when her fingers were within his grasp. She laughed with unexpected delight.

"Want to go get some dinner?" he mumbled after kissing her neck.

"No. Let's go home. To my house. Will you stay with me tonight, Al?" she breathed into his ear.

He rose slowly from the chair, Kasia wrapped around him, and carried her out to her car.