The Definition of Grail: Redefining Us
Disclaimer: I do not own HSM. Or Flashpoint. Or Rookie Blue.
Chapter Ten- Define Scope
scope (noun): the opportunity or possibility to do or deal with something.
Troy's steps were light when he entered the station on Monday morning. He felt rested and ready for a week of evening shifts. Evening shifts were not as appealing to him as morning ones, but they were much more likeable than night shifts. He got to sleep in slightly later than usual, eat a proper breakfast, and still have plenty of time to arrive at the station just before noon. He tossed his duffle bag in his locker and got dressed, grabbing his fleece lined standard-issue jacket. He would throw it in the cruiser for later. Stopping at lock-up, he signed out his weapon and gear belt before searching out Brian.
He found him at his desk, files in neat stacks and his notebooks piled next to his computer. He was on the phone, the receiver cradled to his shoulder as he flipped through an open notebook. He used the pen in his hand to make notes on the pages as he listened. Brian waved Troy in with his free hand, glancing back down at his pages to locate something. Troy took a few steps inside, attaching his radio to his shoulder as he did so. He didn't bother closing the door. He caught a glimpse of Tobin and Bennett passing by, heading to the conference room for shift briefing. Brian hung up the phone and rubbed a hand over his forehead.
"Let me guess," Troy told him, running a hand along his clean-shaven jaw. "You're testifying in court sometime this week, but you arrested the guy for a bunch of things, and he's only being tried for some of them." Troy shot Brian a smirk. "How'd I do?"
"You know, you creep me out when you do that," Brian told him, shaking his head. "It's that Cortez case from last year. Remember?"
"Yeah," Troy said quietly, the fun gone from the room. "She was sixteen, went missing after soccer practice. We found her body a few days later. You tracked all the evidence back to her boss at the sports store. He confessed, gave up a storage locker. We found out there were more girls."
"I hated that case," Brian said, closing his notebook. "Anyway, the DA is Stuart Todd. He decided to make it an airtight case by trying the cases in chunks. The bastard is up for the Cortez girl and three others next week. Todd called to remind me to separate all my facts so I don't spill something I'm not supposed to when I'm on the stand."
"Sounds complicated," Troy replied. "You get a chance yet to talk to anyone about Lia Mendez?"
"Not yet, although I did put in a call to Mason over at headquarters. His crew has been working on the Diablos for six months. He's probably got an inside guy who can ask around. We can't make a move until we know what she knows about you." Brian stood and slid his hands in his pockets. "You talk to Charlie yet?"
"No, but you should give her a heads up. She's probably curious and if we're going to use her, you should keep her off the streets," Troy suggested. He heard his name, and turned to see the captain standing in the door to the conference room, impatience etched on his face.
"Yeah, I'll talk to her. She's off until tomorrow anyway. We may know more by then." He scribbled a note to himself. "Hey, I didn't get to ask, but how was the game last night?" Brian asked.
"Good," Troy told him, taking a step backwards towards the door. "East won. No one started a brawl this time either." His mind flicked back to the conversation he had had with his mother. A smile flickered across his face for a moment before he hid it. Brian still saw.
"What was—," he grinned, "Wait, did Gabriella show up? Did a miss a throw down between you two?"
"Nope," Troy said, turning to leave. "Just a good game, bro," he called over his shoulder, heading to the briefing.
Briefing took longer than usual since Dan took his time discussing how the sting operation had gone over both at their station and across the city. He congratulated those involved, made mention to some of the more impressive arrests, and used the opportunity to point out anything that had gone wrong. Troy listened with one ear, his eyes looking beyond his captain to the board listing assignments for the day. He was riding with Evan which promised to be a great day. He noted their cruiser was being assigned to the five blocks north of East High. He scratched it down in his notebook. Dan mentioned a few open cases that some teams would be helping with and then dismissed everyone.
"Bennett, we're being reunited, let's go!" Troy called, breaking up the conversation between Kate and Evan that was involving a heated game of rock, paper, scissors. "Martin, just forfeit. You need to work with Grey at some point, start now. Don't be a chicken."
"That was harsh," Evan told Troy minutes later as they tossed gear into the trunk of their cruiser. "Grey is going to make her life miserable."
"First," Troy said to Evan, looking at him from across the hood of the car, "Grey has a right to be pissed over the crash and burn of his op. If you ever get the chance to spend months of your life hanging with guys who make you cringe and watch every move you make, you will understand where Luca is coming from. Second, Luca is an ass, but he's also a training officer. She will have to deal with him eventually, and it may as well be on a day when the Captain just spent five minutes telling her how awesome she was. Thirdly, you owe me a week of coffees and I just happen to not have cash on me today. What a coincidence."
"Um, Sir?" Evan asked, confused as he slid in the passenger seat. "Since when do I owe you a week of coffees?"
"Since last week when you bought coffee for Officer Tobin everyday while I had to hang out at the front desk," Troy told him, in a tone that suggested the answer was obvious.
"Officer Martin brought you coffee every day, Sir," Evan pointed out.
"Yes," Troy agreed as they left the fenced parking lot and drove towards their assigned streets, "But she's not you."
He didn't have to look to see Evan roll his eyes. Troy grinned and they lapsed into an easy shift. A handful of parking tickets, an attempted break and enter, a car accident, and a 911 call made by a six year old who wanted to report his gerbil missing. It was almost ten by the time Troy closed his locker and headed home. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and turned on the television, hoping to catch the final minutes of the basketball game coming from Chicago. On his way to bed an hour later, he noticed the blinking light on his landline signalling a voicemail. Without listening to it, Troy hit the button to display any callers during the day. He recognized all but one. It was a local number and Troy made a mental note to check the messages in the morning.
Gabriella returned from her Monday jog with a renewed motivation to utilise her day off to its fullest. With a week of crazy hours and overtime mapped out until another day off, she had admitted that she needed to be productive if she wanted to move out of the apartment on time. To do that, she had begun packing up all the non-essentials. Thankfully the apartment had come furnished and decorated so that meant all the pictures on the walls and accent vases on the tables didn't have to be taken into account. Quickly showering and tossing together a quick salad for lunch, Gabriella surveyed the living room to remind herself where she had left off.
She would leave the kitchen until last so she had started a systematic packing of each room, piling boxes into the dining area as she finished. It had the least amount of breakable objects in it, and she wouldn't be using it before she left. Friday night she had gotten a start by packing up three boxes of books and manuals she had piled on the coffee tables in the living room. She had also packed up dvds, computer equipment, her printer, and the knitted blanket kept on the back of the couch for the many nights she decided not to make the effort to move to her bed, but sleep in front of the television. Monday's mission would be her bedroom, she decided.
Grabbing two boxes, she headed towards the room that looked the most lived in. She began by pulling out her suitcase and her calendar and packing enough clothes for the next two weeks. It was easy given she only had one day off scheduled for Friday amongst shifts for the next two weeks. It was the only way she had been able to pool together the small amount of vacation time she had gained since moving back to Albuquerque in order to take time off to paint and move into the house. It made for simple planning. She set aside running gear, pajamas, and a few outfits for running errands or getting to work. Moving the suitcase out of her way, she began unloading her wardrobe from the closet. Jeans, dresses, shirts, sweaters, skirts and shoes all went neatly into the boxes. When she filled those, she placed them in the dining room and found two more. She had the closet and half of her dresser emptied when the phone rang.
"Montez," Gabriella answered, standing and adjusting her t-shirt.
"Gabriella? Did I get you off-shift?" Toni asked from the other end.
"Yeah, actually," Gabriella told her, walking through the apartment to find a notebook in case she needed it. "I'm just packing up my place to get ready to move. You have perfect timing."
"Great," Toni replied briskly. "I only need a few minutes; thought I would catch you up on the case. There is a final report being put together that will be given to the APD so they can close their file."
"Is it closed?" Gabriella asked, biting her lip.
"Officially, yes." Toni hesitated. "Look, a lot of this won't be in the report, but if you think some people need to know, you can pass along the important stuff."
"Toni, I get it. I knew things would get murky when you confirmed that we found prototypes." Gabriella tapped her pen against the corner of the counter in a quiet beat.
"Officially then, we tracked more than half of the weapons to a research center in Nevada. Everyone checked out except two minimum level clearance clerks who had questionable teenage years. However, that's where things start to muddy the trail. Officially, the file is going to show that there is enough circumstantial evidence that they managed to hack the system and steal the blueprints." Toni listed off the points of the investigation as though she was reading her grocery list. She knew Gabriella's level of curiosity so she took a few minutes to go into the finer details of the case and the evidence. Gabriella only interjected twice, asking about personnel and the security system.
"You said officially, they are the leak," Gabriella pointed out. "Unofficially, where did the case go?"
"Overseas," Toni said after a moment. "Like I said, the evidence is only circumstantial. The company brought on a researcher a year or two ago. He developed at least three of the prototypes. Probably had an input on more though. Anyway, there is a high possibility that he sold his designs to a foreign developer before being hired here in the US. We believe he is the link between the highest levels of security, and the juvenile delinquents."
That was one possibility, Gabriella learned. The developer pre-sold the designs to an overseas company that could then be linked to a contact running between weapons lockups and the American importer, Marco diSantiscani. The option included the same players, but involved a complicated and hard to follow route that lead out of the US, to a number of possible places, and then back in again so that its cargo could find its way to the gangbangers of the streets. Either way, the US side of the operation had been pretty much turned upside down.
"Where is he now?" Gabriella asked, curious. It was like a big puzzle. Sometimes she missed the intricacy of following a project through. The ETU was known for deconstructing cases and scenarios on the go, sometimes with only minutes to find everything they needed.
"That's classified," Toni told her, "But I can tell you that he's not in custody. The case has been handed over to the State Department and Homeland Security. Even the FBI is officially off the case although we will still consult. He's in the wind, although his movements are predictable."
"And his US contacts?" Gabriella mentioned, doodling in the margins of her page. Hearts and swirls, maple leaves and music notes. They contrasted to the names and places Toni had told her. "Did we find them all?"
"Working backwards from Pico and diSantiscani, we found the links between them and the overseas source. We may not know the exact origin or the route of the weapons, but we've essentially shut down their operation here in Albuquerque and the US." Toni let out a long breath when she finished. "Happy?"
"Thank you," Gabriella told her sincerely. "It means a lot and I know you're treading a line."
"I think I crossed the line, but it's been a blurry line anyway. If anything ever comes up, I'll say I called you for a consult." Toni laughed softly. "You are a genius, after all. They tried to recruit you. How can they deny that your brain is useful?"
"Technically, they did recruit me," Gabriella pointed out. "And then I sucked them dry of training and resigned."
"Do you regret it?" Toni asked. "All the training, all the possibilities, all the relatively safe jobs where you wouldn't get shot at or blown up?"
"No," Gabriella told her without hesitation. "Not even a little bit. I am doing what I wanted to do—I help people. Specific people with names and faces. Not targets. Not a general population who won't know I exist. I help people and I get to see what that help does."
"I'm happy for you, Gabs," Toni assured her. "Really. I have to go; I will try and get my supervisor to sign off on the report and send it over the APD guys."
"Thanks, Toni," Gabriella told her, tearing out of the page of notes and leaving it on the counter next to her wallet. "I'll call when the house is ready. You can come have the grand tour."
"Can't wait," she said, already moving on to a new mission. "Be safe."
Gabriella hung up and set her phone down. Her eyes scanned the notes, absorbing the information again to let all the details sink in. She probably wouldn't see Troy or Brian before they got the report, but just in case, she wanted to be able to give them a skeleton overview of the outcome. For a moment, her hand hovered over the phone. If she wanted, she could tell them before the report. Sighing, she slammed a lid on her thoughts.
Needing something to do, she grabbed her keys and her wallet and began hauling boxes down to her convertible. The nice thing about renting an apartment from the Evans was that it guaranteed security and an elevator. After four trips she couldn't fit anything else in her tiny car. Locking up she drove across town to the house. She would miss the contractors for the day, but she only needed to drop things off. She wouldn't even need to go inside and stir up the mess. The garage would suffice. Pulling in the driveway, Gabriella stepped out of the car and clicked her remote in the direction of the garage. Hearing the gears grind, she turned her back and picked up a box. When she turned around again, the door had stopped a foot from the ground. Staring in disbelief at the jammed door, Gabriella couldn't even muster a curse word.
Putting the box back in the car, she pulled out her phone. She didn't even think about him being at work until his voicemail kicked in. Glaring at the broken door, she barely heard the generic robotic voice of the message that only listed the number and not his name. When the beep sounded, Gabriella finally realized what she had done and froze. It was one second, and then another, before she could blurt out why she had called.
"Troy, my door broke. Again. And I get that I need a new one, but it won't be installed until Friday and my garage is currently on display for all the neighborhood hoodlums to see and be tempted. I don't like tempting hoodlums, Troy." She licked her lips. "So, if you have a moment sometime tonight, or tomorrow, could we try and get it locked again? Thanks." She almost hung up. "Oh, it's Gabriella. Brie. Whatever. Thanks."
Hanging up the call, Gabriella stared at her door. How did the FBI think I was a genius? She waited a half hour and then considered calling the station, just to know if it was even a possibility that he'd be over that night. Deciding she had already begun a landslide of possible disaster, Gabriella decided to chance it and left for the night. She'd come by early tomorrow before her shift and meet the contractor. Maybe he could figure it out.
First thing Tuesday morning, Troy went for a run. He didn't have time to do a whole 10k to the park and back, so he stuck to the shorter route around his street. The air was chilly but he didn't feel it after the first block. He had managed to time it so that he was finished after the morning rush at the coffee shop at the end of his street. Sipping his drink as he walked up the sidewalk, Troy made a mental note to locate his meager stash of Halloween decorations the next chance he got. The kids next door would usually carve his pumpkins for him. Stooping to pick up the newspaper on the step, Troy let himself back in and set to making breakfast.
Cracking some eggs in a pan and popping bread into the toaster, Troy dug through his fridge until he found enough ingredients to make a decent omelet. Biting into a banana as he cooked, Troy had his hands full when the phone rang. It turned out to be his bank with a customer survey. Troy politely answered three questions and then hung up, but it reminded him of the flashing light of the voicemail he had neglected the night before. Turning the element down, he grabbed the cordless off the receiver and put it on speaker phone.
"You have one new message," the robot lady told him, speaking slow as a turtle. "The following new message has not been heard."
"Thanks for the heads up," Troy muttered sarcastically.
"Troy, my door broke." Troy's hand with the spatula froze, and then dropped in surprise. The sting of his skin connecting with the hot pan jerked him back to the moment and the rest of her message. He tried to catch up with her words, his mind spinning. He managed to gather that she was afraid she'd be robbed, and that she was on the verge of having an anxiety attack.
Pressing his lips together, Troy stared at the phone. He had options. A lot of them, actually. He could pretend he hadn't checked the messages yet, ignore it. She wouldn't call again. That was the root of it though, wasn't it? She had called. Either she had actually saved his number when he had given it to her weeks ago, or she had gotten it from his parents, but it didn't matter. She had called, and the ball was in his court. It was his move. He wondered why she called his landline and not his cell. He tried to remember if she had his cell number. Glancing at his watch, Troy knew he didn't have enough time to drive to her house, fix the door, and be to work on time. Locating his cell phone, he sent a text to his father. Maybe Jack and the contractors could figure something out. Replaying Gabriella's message, Troy punched the callback number into his cell phone and let it ring. It went to voicemail.
"Brie, hi," he wet his lips. "I worked late last night and only got the message this morning. I have to be to work in two hours, but I sent Dad a message to call me so I can walk him or one of the construction guys through it. If they can't, I will try and get over tonight." He paused, hesitating. "Whatever you needed from the garage, let me know if I can help."
That was it, Troy thought, staring at his cell phone on the counter. Their first phone conversation in a decade and it was about her garage door. Just like old times. Alternating bites of omelet and toast, Troy hurried through his breakfast. Suddenly feeling a need to finish, he was out the door in less than an hour. He wouldn't have time to fix the door, but he could drive by and make sure she hadn't been robbed by hoodlums.
The day started easy. Evan was riding with Troy again. He noticed that Kate looked slightly less harassed when she left the briefing room to follow Luca to their cruiser. Evan met him at the back door, keys to the car in hand. Troy took them and then located their car for the day. Grinning when he saw it was 28-14, he let out a whoop that cause Ruby and Wes to shoot him concerned looks across the lot. Until they saw the car. It was one of the new ones purchased by the department. State of the art computer gear and a perfectly insync steering system. Sliding behind the wheel, Troy pulled out his phone out of his pants pocket to put it in a pocket on his Kevlar vest. Noticing the new text, he clicked it open, saw that his father was heading to Gabriella's, and replaced the phone.
"Sir?" Evan asked, as Troy backed the car out of the lot. "Not to be out of line, but you seem particularly chipper this morning."
"Chipper, Bennett?" Troy questioned with a grin. "You been spending time with Martin? Chipper seems more like one of her words."
"She may have mentioned something about you whistling earlier," Evan admitted.
"It's just a good morning, Bennett," Troy told him. "I had a run, ate breakfast, picked up decent coffee on my way here, and now we have this sweet ride to check out. It's a good day."
Their first call was a fender bender. It went quickly, both parties were cordial, and Evan filled out most of the paperwork. Their second call was a possible break and enter that turned out to be a false alarm. The Real Estate agent showing a house had taken too long to enter the code to kill the silent alarm. The calls began piling up after that. Belligerent speeders, another vehicle accident, and a stolen ride-on lawn mower. When the radio dispatcher told them they were cleared for a break just before 3oclock, Troy made a right onto the main road leading through town.
"Do you mind if we take a quick detour?" Troy asked Evan. When the rookie shook his head, Troy made another left and followed the well known route past East High and onto Gabriella's street. Pulling over in front of the house, Troy crouched to look out Evan's window to check out the garage. It was still open, but he could see two construction workers working on it. Looking around, he spotted his father's truck. "I just need to check on something," Troy told Evan. "We'll grab something when we're done, on me."
Evan followed him out of the car and up the walkway. Troy had noticed the confused look on Evan's face but left it unanswered. They passed the guys working on the garage and entered the open front door. People were everywhere. Troy had never asked for the details on the renovations, but as he looked, he could make some guesses. The kitchen cabinets were gone and the entrance way floor was bare to the wood. Plastic sheeting covered the doorways to the living and dining rooms. The bathroom had boxes of tile outside the door. The workers barely acknowledged Troy's presence until he poked his head into the kitchen and singled out the person wearing the foreman's hat.
"Excuse me," he asked politely, aware that his uniform made everyone tense. "I'm looking for Jack Bolton. Is he around?"
"Upstairs," the man told him, "The bedroom on the back of the house. I can take you?"
"That's fine," Troy told him, already moving. "I know where it is."
Troy left the kitchen behind, taking a moment to inspect the black granite counter tops waiting to be installed. They were nice, he admitted. Trying to avoid getting any drywall dust on his uniform, he led the way to the staircase. Climbing the steps, Troy mentally placed pictures on the wall as they had been before the Banksons moved in. Reaching the landing, they passed the first bedroom and the closet. He could hear voices and drilling coming from down the hall, directions and shouts as men worked. The floor under his feet vibrated for a moment and Troy wondered what Gabriella could possibly hate about the bedrooms to be causing this much ruckus.
"Did you buy a new house, sir?" Evan asked, glancing into every doorway they passed.
"No," Troy told him. "It belongs to a friend." Locating the right room, Troy froze. There were men on the balcony, and in the bathroom that they had opened up into the room. The closet doors were off the hinges and at some point someone had painted the previously purple room a garish putrid yellow-green color. He really hoped it wasn't Gabriella's new choice. Hearing the familiar voice, Troy called out. "Dad?"
"Officer, is there a problem?" The man who stepped forward had a frown on his face and held a level. A pencil was behind his ear and his hands were covered in dust. "Is this a permit inspection?"
"No, not at all," Troy assured him, holding out his hand. "Troy Bolton. I just need to speak to my dad for a moment." He indicated Jack.
"Troy, Evan, what's up?" Jack brushed his hands on his pants.
"Just on break," Troy told him. "I thought I would swing by and see if you got the door working. I told her I would come by after shift tonight if it wasn't fixed."
"You told her?" Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," Troy replied, his voice light. "In a pleasant and friendly voicemail. I'm assuming she's at work."
"Yeah, all week. That's why I'm here. They hit a problem with the bathroom and she asked if I'd make a decision for her." Jack gestured to the room behind him. Troy stepped around and looked. The old entrance to the master bathroom was sealed off. It would be hardly noticeable once painted. The large Jacuzzi tub had been turned to accommodate the new set up. "They didn't realize they would have to change the tub in order to break out the wall."
"What is she doing?" Troy asked. "This place is a disaster. It's worse than downstairs." He eyed the garden doors across the room. "Is she taking down the balcony?"
"No, just rebuilding it. It's been rotting away since no one uses it anymore." Jack gave Troy a pointed look. "She thought it should be replaced, but then they found some interesting artwork on it, so now they are just rebuilding it. You know, in case someone decides to climb it in the near future."
"We exchanged voicemails about her garage door, Dad. I don't think there is a balcony scene coming anytime soon." Troy grinned though as he said it. He remembered the artwork Jack was referring to. Hearts and initials, x's and o's. "And the bathroom?"
"She doesn't want Maria's old room," Jack explained quietly and Troy's heart shuddered in his chest. It was such an obvious answer and he hadn't thought of it. "So she's switching the master suite to this one."
"It's a lot of work," Troy commented. "What about the garage? I see it's still stuck."
"Yeah, but they are working on it. I will let you know if you need to come back tonight and I will help you out." Jack paused. "Troy, I'm proud of you. Of both of you. It's a big step and it means the world to me that you can do it."
"Yeah, well, she's the one who called." Troy looked over his shoulder at Evan who was watching the work on the balcony. "Anyway, I should feed my rookie so he doesn't collapse on me soon. Let me know how it goes."
Evan didn't say a word on their way back to the cruiser. Troy was lost in thought until he slid behind the wheel. His mind was filled with visions of the Montez house how it had been when he was a kid. Looking next door, he tried to remember the last time he had been in the Danforth's basement. He drew a blank and his chest squeezed. Shaking his head he looked over to Evan.
"Pizza okay with you?" he asked. Evan nodded, looking out the window and occasionally tapping the keys to his phone. "What did you think of the house?"
"It's big," Evan said. "I like the space. It seems like it would have a big yard."
"It does," Troy admitted. There was a pause. "I grew up there." Seeing the confused look on Evan's face, Troy decided to explain. "You've been to my parents' house, but I probably spent just as much time in that house back there—and the house next to it—as in my own. I never thought I would be inside again."
"It's been bought," Evan pointed out. "The sold sign is still out front."
"Yeah, Brie just bought it back." Troy pulled onto the main road. They still had twenty minutes left on their break. "When she left for college, her mom stayed in Albuquerque. After she died, Brie sold the house, but the buyers put it back on the market about a month ago. My dad has been handling the renovations for her. It's like his new pet project."
"And Brie is?" When Troy gave him a look, Evan looked uncomfortable. "Sorry, Sir. Just curious."
"You've met her," Troy pointed out with a smirk. Evan drew his eyebrows together. "Montez? The bomb girl? Saved your life?"
"The one you keep getting into screaming matches with?" Troy chuckled at Evan's tone and perplexed expression. "That's the girl whose garage door you need to fix?"
"You heard that," Troy said. "And yeah, that girl. Just so you know, we have not yelled at each other since Friday."
Evan didn't look convinced as they pulled into the pizza place a block from the station. Troy kept his word and paid for two slices each and accompanying drinks. They ate them quickly, their eyes on the clock and their ears tuned in to their radios. Thirty seconds after their break ended, dispatch asked if they were returning to service. Troy answered them and they were back on the job. Leaving the pizzeria, Troy tossed Evan the keys to the cruiser.
From there, the good day went downhill.
Dispatch contacted them five minutes after leaving the pizzeria.
"28-14, we have a report of a possible robbery taking place at Preston and Franklin. Gloria's Antiques." Dispatch crackled over the radio. Troy calculated their vicinity.
"This is 28-14 responding," he told them, pulling at the radio clipped to his vest. Hitting the switch for the lights and sirens, he looked at Evan. "Let's pick up the pace, Bennett."
"28-14, please be advised that we are receiving calls of shots fired. Additional units are on route." Troy heard dispatch put calls out to 28-16 and 28-04.
"Understood," he replied. He gripped the handle above his head as Evan took a corner. Through the windshield he could see the crowd forming up ahead. The sidewalk was crowded and people clutched cell phones. Looking back, Troy noted another cruiser pulling up behind them. "This doesn't look good," he muttered.
It wasn't. It took ten minutes for Troy and the other officers to gather an idea of what had happened. A male described as in his teens, wearing a black hoodie with jeans and a Red Hawks baseball cap had entered the antique store and asked to see a collection of rings in a locked case behind the counter. Alan Miller, the owner of Gloria's, had obliged. A witness told the police that Alan had made small talk with the young man who said he wanted a ring for his girlfriend. Alan unlocked the case and pulled out a display of rings. The young man asked about prices. Each time Alan answered him, he seemed to get more agitated. When the young man tried to negotiate a lower price, Alan had grown frustrated and suggested the young man try the pawn shop on Willow. Their voices had begun rising and at that point the witness had stepped outside to call police. Before the call could go through, she heard Alan yell about a gun. She reported it as a robbery and ducked away from the door to the alley that ran beside the building. When she heard three shots, she took a chance and ran next door to a coffee shop. Witnesses on the sidewalk reported that the assailant had taken off across the street, through the parking lot of a sports store and disappearing into the park.
"Bolton? Tobin? What do we have?" Brian entered the antique store through the front door being guarded by Evan and Callum. Kate and Luca were on the sidewalk, coaxing information out of witnesses. It was late afternoon, but the area had not been that busy so their pool of witnesses was small and they were all saying the same thing. "I've got cops combing the area for a teenaged kid with a black hoodie and a baseball cap. It's not really the best description."
"Well, Detective," Troy responded snarkily, "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Alan Miller, aged fifty-six and owner of this fine establishment. He won't be able to help you with your description because he took two bullets to his chest and bled out on the floor."
"So I've got a kid running around with a gun and a pending murder charge," Brian concluded. "Perfect."
"And a ring," Wes added.
"What?" Brian asked, eyes wide as he looked at the display of rings still sitting on the counter. A few slots were empty.
"He was in here looking for a ring. I think we should assume that he took one with him when he ran." Wes shrugged. "The tech guys are pulling the camera footage, but it's an old system."
"So what? He comes in here to buy a ring for his girlfriend, doesn't have the money, gets into an argument and shoots Mr. Miller, grabs the ring of his dreams and is now trying to get to his girlfriend?" Brian ran his hands through his hair. "We are going to have a problem if the girlfriend figures out where the ring came from and has a conscience." He answered the ringing phone on his hip.
Troy scanned the room, looking for anything they may have missed. Forensics had pulled prints from the glass displays, but it wouldn't help them if the kid wasn't in the system. Corey, the tech guy, was trying to find a decent shot of the kid on the video footage. The witnesses had either been too slow to pick up on something, or hadn't thought of it until the shots were fired. Pulling up a map of the area on his phone, Troy tried to think like a lovesick, frightened kid. He identified the antique shop, and the park. East High was labelled ten blocks away. Twenty-six blocks west was West High. Troy realized it was an impossible task without knowing who the kid was. Behind him, Brian barked his name.
"We have a picture," he said. Troy's phone chimed just as the words were spoken. He pulled up the image and raked his eyes over every detail. "Start showing it around to the people outside and maybe the sports store across the street. Someone must know something about the kid."
"Shit," Troy hissed, using his finger to enlarge the picture on the screen. Everyone jerked their heads towards him. "He's a basketball player."
"What? How can you tell?" Wes asked, looking at his own phone.
"He's a basketball player." Luca had entered the room, his phone in hand. Troy shot him a look of irritation but said nothing to him.
"First, the sneakers," Troy said, answering Wes' question. Brian was scribbling furiously. "Secondly, I recognize the backpack. East High orders the same ones every year." Glancing at Brian, Troy fired off a text with the photo attached. "I sent it to Dad. Maybe he will recognize him."
"Your dad still coaching?" Luca asked with a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Kids always find their coaches easier to talk to than their parents."
"No, Dad's been retired for a few years now, but he follows the league religiously." Troy paused, looking at Luca though. "Grey's right. If the kid is in trouble, he may seek out his coach. I'm taking Bennett and we'll check out the high school. Maybe the coach is still there."
"Let me know if Jack or the coach can ID him," Brian replied. "And Troy? The first indication that the kid could be in the school, you call for backup and shut the place down."
Troy nodded, exiting the shop and indicating for Evan to follow him. They ducked under the police tape and slid into the cruiser. Evan handed over the keys without a word. On the way to East High, Troy filled Evan in on the suspect and their hunch. He had Evan try calling the school, but given that classes had ended forty-five minutes ago, it wasn't a surprise when no one answered. Next he tried locating a basketball practice schedule online. He came up empty. As they pulled into the parking lot and parked in front of the landmark fountain, Troy hated that the lot was filled with student vehicles. It meant that they would have a serious problem if the kid did what they suspected and showed up.
Gabriella was already running through the entries and exits at East High when Gavin pulled their SUV into the parking lot, wedging it between two police cruisers. She was throwing open the door before he even put the vehicle in park, her boots hitting the pavement and her hands swinging her helmet over her hair. She checked her sidearm before opening the door to the rear compartment. Gavin was beside her in minutes, tossing her a long gun and ammo before grabbing his own and closing the trunk. Behind them the other two SUVs of their unit screeched to a halt. Gabriella ignored the shouts and calls of her team as they loaded gear onto their persons. Instead, she sought out their primary contact with the APD.
"Detective," she called to Brian. She strode across the grass to where he and a group of officers were huddled over a set of blue prints. Gavin followed her steps. "Unit One has been asked to back us up. They're wrapping up a call."
"Specialists," he acknowledged. "I will wait for all of your team before briefing you."
A moment later, Sam and the others joined them and Brian launched into the details of the botched robbery. He outlined what happened in the shop and how they had managed to connect the young man to the basketball team. He walked them through how his officers had arrived at the school to talk to the basketball coach, only for him to not know the student. The basketball coach had only been at the school for two years and while he admitted the backpack was most likely one of his, he didn't recognize the young man in the photograph. However, a student who happened to stumble upon the meeting did know him.
"Carter Darden," Brian informed them with a grimace. "He's an East High junior, C-average, plays football as a third string runningback. Didn't see the field this year. He plays basketball with the local city league and he got the backpack from his brother, Casey, who graduated three years ago. He's seventeen and the two students who we have talked to so far describe him as mediocre. He doesn't get in trouble often, but skips a lot of class. He isn't part of the inner circle of the popular athlete crowd, but he is known for his way around cars. I guess a lot of students will ask him to do mechanical work for cheap." Brian paused. "His girlfriend, the assumed recipient of the ring he stole, is Tamara Weston. She is a freshmen. She is on the cheerleading team and she apparently met Carter while tutoring him for biology. By all accounts, she's a science whiz. Her father is a lawyer and his firm just transferred him to Louisiana. Tamara and her family are moving this month."
"Have your officers seen either of them?" Sam asked, eyeing the exterior of the school and the windows.
"That's where our problem starts," Brian sighed."Tamara had cheerleading practice after school. When Bennett and Bolton realized that, they went to the gym to talk to her. Carter was sitting in the bleachers, watching her. He got to her first, pulled a gun on the officers, and threatened to shoot at the crowd of girls in the gym. Bolton tried to talk to him, but Carter fired—hit no one—and then dragged Tamara off."
"So they are still in the building?" Aaron concluded.
"Yes, where, we don't know for sure. They went up a level but there are a number of staircases that could lead them back down or further up." Brian smoothed the blueprints with his hands. "The other problem is that the building isn't empty. Cheerleading wasn't the only after-school activity on the agenda today." He pointed to rooms as he listed them off. Gabriella finally realized that the man standing behind him was the principal. "Scholastic decathlon is here, in the chem lab. The yearbook committee is in the library. Student Council uses an office on the first floor. They are also using the art room in the basement. And the drama club had rehearsal."
"In the auditorium or in the music room?" Gabriella asked, stepping forward to see the plans.
"Auditorium," Brian told her, stepping aside. "But we can't rule out the music room. The principal says they usually use both."
"Montez, you know the school?" Sam asked although he knew the answer. "Unit One is still caught up at their earlier call so until they come, I am pairing each of you with an APD officer. If you know the school, I'm going to let you assign the team to areas. We are going to focus on clearing the building and narrowing down Carter's possible location."
Gabriella scanned the layout in front of her as Brian used his radio to call over officers to help with the job. As her finger moved along corridors and staircases, she assigned each of her teammates to a room. Clear it, get them out and then go back in to find Carter and Tamara, she told them. Brian interjected to point out the area on the football field where the cheerleaders were already giving statements. Bolton and Bennett had sent them out through the gym's emergency exit as soon as Carter was out of the room. Jenna went to the chem lab, Aaron to the Student Council office, Will to the library, and Gavin to the music room. She barely paid attention to who they were paired with but she knew who she wanted with her.
"I'm staying here to co-ordinate," Sam told her. "You can take the auditorium?"
"Yeah," she told him. "I did it on purpose. I was part of the drama club when I was a student here. I know all the back rooms and closets." She looked behind her to Brian. "Where's Troy?"
"In the lobby," Brian told her.
"I'm taking Officer Bolton with me," Gabriella told Sam. She didn't look for the surprise on his face. "He knows the backstage area as well as I do."
"Fine," Brian said tersely. "I'm going to try and get a list of Carter's classes. Maybe he would pick one of those rooms."
Gabriella clutched her weapon with both hands and left them for the lobby. She took the front steps two at a time, sliding through the front doors and casting her gaze around for Troy. He had his back to her, but she knew he was looking for any possible way Carter could slip by him. His gun was out, gripped in both hands and pointed at the ground. In her ear, Gabriella followed her team's movements on the two floors above her. She could hear footsteps and saw that Aaron and Luca Grey were escorting the student council members down the hall to the front doors. Easing up beside Troy, Gabriella gently brushed his arm with her fingertips.
"You're with me," she told him. "We have to clear the drama club from the auditorium and back stage."
"Yes, ma'am," Troy drawled, his eyes laughing for a moment before he focused on the task. She rolled her eyes.
"You know the area. You won't miss anything," Gabriella told him as they crept down the hall, past the main staircase. They took a moment to glance into the cafeteria. Troy tried the door. It was locked. Carter wouldn't have keys for it. Gabriella relayed it back to Sam and they kept going towards their target. The only sound was her pounding heart and the sound of their boots on the floor. "You ID'ed the kid."
"Yeah," Troy said softly, crouching to clear the intersecting hallway. "Well, I found some kids who could."
They were silent as they neared the auditorium. Gabriella covered the door as Troy opened it, letting her enter first. Once inside, they signalled for those in the room to be silent as they cleared each row of the sloped seating. When they left the shelter of the balcony, Gabriella spun and searched it with shrewd eyes and a raised gun. Looking at Troy, he signalled that he would go up and check. In the meantime Gabriella ordered everyone else to exit through the fire exit cut into the side of stage left. It led down a short hallway with no other doors and then out into the main parking lot. Gabriella called to Sam through her mic to have someone meet them.
Rejoining Troy back in the auditorium, they began searching each backstage room, closet and catwalk. Gabriella's adrenaline was rushing and sweat tickled her neck. She was constantly aware of how close Troy was and found herself watching the way he moved more than once. It was methodical and graceful, his movements smooth and intricate. He watched and listened and sensed without saying a word. When they got to the last part of the room, he sighed and lowered his gun. Gabriella relayed to Sam, who told them to keep combing the building. APD officers had covered the first floor and Aaron, Will, Gavin, Luca and Wes were on the second floor. Jenna and Kate Martin were on the third floor, clearing the science wing. Gabriella tried to wrack her brain for an idea.
"Wait," Troy said, gently grabbing her arm so she would look at him. "Tamara was a biology whiz, right?"
"Yeah," Gabriella said, a niggling thought springing forward. "Do you think she knew about the roof?"
"Probably," Troy responded, leading the way out of the auditorium and towards the main stairs. "It makes sense, right? No one has seen them? He wants to give her this ring?"
"Montez," Sam barked over her earpiece, "What is going on?"
"The roof, Sir," Gabriella told him as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. "There is a door on the third floor that's unmarked but it leads to the roof. The biology club keeps a rooftop garden up there. Tamara probably knew about it."
"And you think that Carter would know?" Sam asked. "It's a good idea."
"Tamara most likely showed him," Gabriella replied. Just up ahead, Troy had reached the door and was trying the handle. It gave way in his hand. He gave Gabriella thumbs up. "It's known to be secluded and romantic. Not many people know about it."
"I'm sending backup," Sam told her. "See if they are up there, but if you're right and they are, keep your distance. We don't want the kid feeling cornered. He has a gun and he's near the ledge, literally."
Gabriella tuned out the orders being given over the radiowaves. Approaching Troy, she tried to recall the layout of the roof. She knew that the staircase lead to open air, the steps emerging onto the roof. In her mind, she placed the garden benches, the swing, the small greenhouse. Obviously not everything would be the same, but she needed a direction to aim her weapon when they got to the top. Troy brushed her arm, and she looked down at his hand before glancing back up to his face. He pulled open the door and she led the way. Their footsteps were soft, barely noticeable as they went one step at a time. Troy left the door wedged open behind them so that their back-up could see it. Gabriella listened for voices above her. She could finally make them out when she was half way.
"Tam, I did it for us!" Carter was pleading. Gabriella signalled to Troy who indicated he could hear them too. He pointed to the west and she nodded.
"How is stealing a ring a good thing?" Tamara asked. "You ran from the cops! You shot at my friends!"
"I didn't hit anyone!" Carter growled. "It was just to scare them."
"Carter, the cops were looking for you! What did you do! You said you would fix this, but this isn't fixing anything!" Tamara choked on a sob and Gabriella imagined her crying. "You're going to jail, Carter!"
"I'm not, okay," Carter told her. Gabriella was as close as she could go without showing herself. Troy crouched close, slightly in her space so she felt his weight against her thing. "You're dad is a lawyer. He can help me out."
"My dad is gone, Carter! He's already in Louisiana, remember? We are moving next week to join him. I thought you were going to talk your parents into letting you come up and visit over thanksgiving; that was supposed to be our solution." Tamara sounded angry now, frustrated. Gabriella looked at Troy and signalled. He shook his head and held a finger to his lips. Wait for all the information. Gabriella pursed her lips but nodded.
"I thought this was what we wanted!" Carter told her. "What we talked about."
"For the future, Carter! Not now." Tamara was back to crying. "I am sixteen! I can't marry you and run off into the sunset. I want to graduate and go to college."
"Oh, brother," Troy sighed, his breath tickling Gabriella's ear. "She is not helping."
"On my count," Gabriella told him, agreeing with his calculation that Tamara's confessions were only aggravating the situation. "One, two, three—"
They were on the roof in seconds, their weapons aimed and their eyes scanning the space for information. Tamara was leaning back against the wall surrounding the roof, her arms spread and her head tilted back. She had a zip-up sweater on that was too big for her. Gabriella saw that it was Carter's. Carter was pacing back and forth in front of her, his backpack now on the seat of the wooden swing set up under the arbour but the gun in his hand. He barely seemed to notice that he carried it. Silently cursing the number of obstacles on the roof, Gabriella kept her weapon steady as she and Troy announced themselves and stood on the tiled pathway. Flowers spilled from baskets, boxes and containers. The sun was beginning to dip behind them, casting shadows all around.
"Carter, my name is Gabriella and this is Troy," Gabriella called in a steady voice. "Do you think we can talk about this situation?"
"No, you need to leave!" Carter yelled. "I am proposing to her and you're ruining it. It's supposed to be romantic, but she won't say yes if there are people around."
"I am not going to say yes!" Tamara yelled. "This is a nightmare!"
"I'm not sure about that," Gabriella said, looking at Tamara. "This place is pretty cool. Not many people know it exists. Did she show it to you?" Gabriella aimed that question at Carter.
"Yeah, when we started going out and she was still tutoring me, we would come up here so no one could find us," Carter told Gabriella. "I thought it was the perfect place to give her the ring." He paused. "How did you find us?"
"Well," Gabriella started, wondering how much to tell him. In her ear, Sam was encouraging her to keep him talking. "I used to come up here a lot in my senior year."
"You went to East High?" Carter asked her.
"Yeah, and when I needed time to think, or wanted to get away from everything, I would come up here and only one person would know where to find me." Gabriella offered him a small smile. "But Carter, you can't stay up here. There are some people downstairs who need to ask you some questions and Tamara needs to get back to practice."
"I picked it out last week," Carter said, digging in his back pocket. Gabriella tensed even though she knew which hand the gun was in. Carter brought out the ring. She couldn't see the details, but she noticed how the sun glinted off of it. "I know it's not designer or big or expensive, but it's vintage and pretty and unique. I thought she would like it. The lady at the counter told me if I wanted it, she'd give me a discount. When I went back today, there was someone else there and he didn't believe me."
"Carter, I know it was an accident. I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone, but you need to explain that to the people downstairs." Gabriella had taken several steps forward during their chat, but now she took another one. Carter finally seemed to notice.
"What are you doing?!" he yelled.
"I just need to be able to hear you," Gabriella told him gently. "I won't come any closer."
"Don't!" he cried. "Just don't! You don't understand. She said no and now she's going to leave for some new city and a new school and she doesn't understand that I love her!"
"No, Carter, she does," Gabriella replied. "She knows you love her, and maybe she loves you too, but you're young. You can't live just on love. You need other things or else your love dies because you hide behind it. You begin to resent it. You distrust it. You lose sight of it. Love is special, Carter, but you need more. Tamara needs more. She needs to know she can survive without you. It makes her strong."
"Have you been in love?" Carter suddenly asked. Gabriella was startled. She had been watching Tamara inch away from them, towards the shelter of the green house. Troy had shifted in that direction too, although still close to Gabriella. She pondered the question and then answered honestly.
"I have," she nodded. "And you feel like no one else understands except the person you are with. They get you, they feel you, they shelter you. You're safe with them. And Carter? I know what happens when people feel trapped. I chose a university based on what I wanted. And when he chose to go across the country, I was angry. I thought he would pick something closer. Even though the school he chose was best for him, I wanted him to pick me. I wanted me to be the trump card. We didn't last, Carter. How could we? You need to do the same thing, Carter. You need to let Tamara go. She needs to choose what's best for her. That is school and her family." Gabriella waited to see his reaction. "So can Tamara go, Carter? Can I send her away so we can talk about what happened at the store?"
The moment Troy led Tamara down the stairs to the school hallway, cops swarmed the rooftop. There were moments of yelling and confusion and Carter hesitated for less than a moment before dropping the gun and sinking to his knees. As someone walked him down the stairs, heading for a police car at the front door, Troy reappeared beside Gabriella. He didn't say a word as she caught her breath, mind working at high velocity. She had slipped the safety on her weapon and slung it across her back with its strap. His gun was his holster.
"So you thought I would pick Berkeley," he finally said.
"Troy—" Gabriella began, her voice holding a warning.
"No, Brie, it's not like that," he rushed in quickly. He didn't want whatever they had accomplished to crumble. "I was going to say it makes sense." She opened her mouth to say something else. "Just another piece of the puzzle, that's all I'm saying. People ask what happened to us and I say that I don't know, and it's true. I don't. But I think I am beginning to. Berkeley is just another piece. You don't need to defend it."
"Okay," she said softly. She turned and looked out over Albuquerque, the East High fountain directly below her. "You remember the last time we were up here?"
"Yeah, the day before we left for Maplevine. We had graduated that day, you were wearing that cute yellow sundress with too many straps. We were looking for an earring you had lost at prom." Troy looked down at her and grinned. "Time doesn't erase everything. Some things stick. You can't rid of them if you tried."
"A yellow sundress is what stuck?" she asked, smirking. She took her hands off the wall and unbuttoned her cuffs. Rolling up the sleeves of her navy uniform shirt, she spun to face Troy. He was standing at ready. His hands were on his belt, his feet hip width apart. Around them people were snapping pictures and cataloging evidence. "You know what I remember? You found my earring. We spent, what? An hour, looking for that thing? You found it in the greenhouse."
"See? Something always sticks." He smiled, his eyes dropping for a moment. She saw the moment they widened and she followed his gaze. The tattoo on the inside of her arm was visible, the tiny roman numerals etched into her skin. When he met her eyes, she saw the questions. She tucked her arms behind her back instead of answering. The static of his radio jolted both of them and they awkwardly stood as Brian asked them to meet him in the parking lot. "We're being summoned," he joked. His laugh was hallow.
Troy and Gabriella found Brian in the parking lot. He was scrolling through transcripts with Sam, using the open trunk of a SUV as a desktop. Troy slipped his sunglasses on to block the setting sun. Most of the students had been interviewed and let go. Parents had arrived for some. Carter's parents were meeting him at the station. So was Tamara's mother. Half of the officers who had been involved in the search and arrest were back on active duty. Troy scanned the area looking for Evan.
"Ford, you see my rookie?" Troy asked, approaching the group. Aaron and Will were leaning against one of the other SUVs chatting to Charlie and Wes.
"Yeah, he's with Martin and Snow. They are pulling the school surveillance footage for evidence. The DA is on his way." Brian looked at Troy and Gabriella, looking slightly amused. "You two did good."
"Montez, we may have to start using those negotiation tactics," Sam told her with a smile. "That was great work."
"Thanks, Sarge," she replied quietly. "It was easy to connect with him."
"You ready to roll?" Sam asked, tugging at his cap. When she nodded, he signalled to the other team members. He waved to Brian and tipped his cap to Troy before walking away, heading for the passenger side of the farthest SUV. Gabriella stood awkwardly beside Troy, not sure what to say. She couldn't just walk away anymore.
"So, uh—" Troy licked his lips, "I went by the house this morning. Dad had the guys working on the garage. It should be good by tonight but I'm off at eight, so if it's still wacked, let me know."
"Thanks," she answered. Gavin called her name and she waved him off. "I actually wanted to give you a heads up on something." She pulled her headset off her ear. "I have a contact—at the FBI office—she is faxing the final report on diSantiscani and Pico to your station, probably to Brian. They are officially closing the case. All of those details will be in Antonia's report." Gabriella paused, checking who was around, her voice low. "It's going to tell you everything important and official. If you need anything else, I may be able to help you fill in the gaps. Off the record."
"Really? It's done?" Troy asked, taking off his hat and running a hand through his hair. He replaced his hat. "That's great. You know if they checked out everyone else? Any other arrests?"
"Read the report, Troy," Gabriella told him. "If you have questions, I'll buy you a drink. We'll talk about it."
Troy watched her walk away, towards Gavin and the SUV. She secured her weapon in the lockbox in the back and then climbed in the front. Troy stood in place and watched the vehicles leave the parking lot. When Brian was finally alone, Troy took a moment to relay what Gabriella had said. There were dozens of questions, but they had no answers. They would wait for the report and then Troy would take her up on her offer of a drink.
It was on the way out of the locker rooms that Brian caught up to Troy again. He had a file in his hands, but it wasn't the report Gabriella had mentioned. Noticing how many people were in the halls for shift change, Brian indicated for Troy to follow him into an interview room. Shutting the blinds and checking to ensure the intercom system was off, Brian laid the file folder on the table.
"I put some calls around, asked some questions," Brian told him quickly. "Lia Mendez is running dope and girls through the club."
"So what are we thinking?" Troy asked. He was tired, and his head hurt, and there was still a possibility that he needed to go fix Gabriella's door.
"We need to wait and see what's in this report from the Feds; maybe talk to Gabriella." Brian shrugged. "We don't have a lot, but if the Feds clear her from their case then I think we should start looking deeper."
"Great," Troy said, slapping the table and standing from his slouched position. "Well, I'm off."
"Plans?" Brian asked. Troy's response was interrupted by his phone chirping. He groaned when he read it and the eight preceding messages. "I'm going to assume it's not a beer at The Shield."
"I've got to meet Dad and fix that fucking door," Troy growled. "I should have Captain post someone in her driveway. Save us all the hassle."
"Her door, huh?" Brian raised an eyebrow.
Troy ignored him and left the room. Grabbing Evan's arm as he passed the front desk he informed him that they had a mission before heading home. Jack had called Gabriella to tell her the contractors hadn't had luck. She had called him back to say she was hung up at another call. He had called Troy who dragged Evan with him. On his way home sometime after midnight, Troy sent her a text. That better be an epic new door.