A/N: Well, here it is--the official end of Allyson's case, the closure I know she (and probably some of you, too) has been waiting for, and a little farewell for Frank Tripp because he's so much fun (he and Don Flack are my two favorite cops on all three shows!), but his involvement in this story is over. There is, of course, more story still to come for Ally and Tim, so stay tuned :-P

Allyson sat on the porch of Amanda's townhouse in the early morning hours, seeking comfort from the rising sun after an unsettled night's sleep. The air was warm, but not yet stifling, a light breeze rustling the leaves on the tree in the front yard and gently brushing locks of her hair against her neck. A book rested in her lap and a glass of orange juice sat on a little table beside her, but neither object seemed able to hold her interest.

The roaring of a motorcycle engine commanded her attention, though, her eyes finding the vehicle and following it as it sped up the road. Who the hell is making all that noise at this hour?

When it came to a stop in Amanda's driveway she had her answer. "Tim Speedle," she smiled to herself when he pulled off his helmet. She watched him climb off and trudge up the walk, squinting at her in the sun. When he was close enough to hear, she greeted him. "'Morning," she called, her smile growing. "You tryin' to wake up the whole neighborhood?"

"Nope," he replied with a small but pleased smile, climbing the steps to the porch. "Just one girl, but she's already awake. Are you always up this early?"

She shook her head. "Not unless I have to be."

He studied her face, noting the dark circles under her eyes that hadn't disappeared after her release from the hospital, and became more serious. "House creeks still keeping you up?"

She shook her head again, pressing her lips together. "Nightmare," she answered tightly.

Standing against the porch rail in front of her, he leaned closer and looked into her eyes. "You should have called me."

"I can't call you every time I have trouble sleeping, Tim," she chided gently. "You'd never get any rest, and I know you're not sleeping well as it is." His long eyelashes swept down over his cheeks as he looked away from her, confirming her suspicions. "Maybe I should be checking up on you."

"I'm not checking up on you," he countered lightly. "I'm on my way to work. This just happens to be one of the routes I can take."

"On that?" She gestured to the motorcycle in the driveway. He nodded and she smiled again. "She looks fast—bet she's got a big engine."

"You know motorcycles?" he asked, trying not to let his surprise show. Just when I think I have her figured out…

"A little," she responded. "I had a friend in college that would take me out after a particularly long week or a tough exam. It was good therapy, even in the fall when it's cold up north."

"It's good therapy in warm weather, too," he told her. "Maybe you and I can go for a ride some night when we're not sleeping."

She caught the twinkling in his eyes and grinned. "But we shouldn't be not-sleeping because you lost your job. You better get going."

"Yeah." He straightened up, hefting his helmet as he reached over and squeezed her shoulder warmly. "I know your parents will be there with you, but I'll try and get to PD during Polanski's allocution this afternoon, too."

She laid a hand on his arm. "Okay." Her fingers slid over his sleeve as he drew away, and she watched him cross the porch before speaking again. "Hey Tim?"

He paused on the stairs, turning toward her. "Yeah?"

She smiled appreciatively. "Thanks for not checking up on me."

He resumed his walk down the steps, returning her smile. "Anytime."

———

To facilitate Allyson's observation of Aaron Polanski's formal confession, all parties agreed to conduct the session in an interrogation room at the Police Department, which had mirrored windows and an intercom, rather than in an interview room at Dade County Jail, which didn't. She was standing outside the window now, listening to Polanski's voice as he described the way he stalked and killed Julia Jackson. Beside her stood her mother, one arm wrapped around Allyson's shoulders and her free hand clutching her daughter's.

"I followed her home one night from the gas station. Here she had this big ol' farmhouse, but she lived all by herself," Polanski explained to the State's Attorney and one of Converse County's Assistant District Attorneys.

"Why did you pick her?" the State's Attorney asked.

Polanski shrugged. "Why not?"

The Converse County ADA asked the next question through clenched teeth. "What did you do when you got to her home?"

"There wasn't a neighbor closer than five miles away, so I knew no one would hear her scream or see me around," Polanski continued. "The lock on her back door was easy to pick and I just went up to her bedroom with my knife…she was sleeping so peacefully…I didn't want to wake her so I made sure to stab her in the heart and lungs first so she'd die peacefully, too."

Peggy Brooks paled visibly at his words. "He's so casual about it," she whispered. "Like he went to pick up a quart of milk at the store."

Allyson gripped her hand tighter in response, mutely listening as Polanski kept talking.

"Someone was driving down the road and did see me leave, and the cops questioned me, but no one could prove I killed Julia, so I figured I was good enough to do it again. Wyoming was cold in the winter, and I was tired of shoveling snow, so I figured I'd move south. When I got to Miami I saw that other girl, Allyson, at a gas station too, and she reminded me of Julia. She had the same long brown hair, she was the same height, same blue eyes. She looked like fun, so I followed her home every night for a week to get her routine down, and just like Julia she came home and stayed in for the night."

"Looked like fun?" Peggy choked.

"Mom, are you sure you want to hear this?" Allyson asked, trying to hide the strain in her voice. Dad couldn't do it…thank goodness Amanda is with him in the waiting area.

"You're not going through this alone, sweetheart," Peggy insisted, some of her fire coming back. She pulled her daughter closer, hoping to quell the shaking that had developed in Allyson's shoulders.

"…picked the lock on her back door and brought my knife in—I liked using the knife on Julia…I had to get so close to her," Polanski was telling the prosecutors. "I bought new shoes so there wouldn't be a wear pattern and new clothes so the fibers wouldn't match anything I already had. I even wore latex gloves so I wouldn't leave any fingerprints, either." He grinned smugly at the two lawyers. "I watch those crime shows on TV, so I knew what the police would look for."

"That dumb bastard actually thought this through," a gruff voice muttered, coming up beside Allyson. She turned to find Tim, gun and badge on his hip and file folder in one hand, reaching for her with the other. He clasped her trembling free hand firmly in his, his eyes meeting hers and silently sending her all his strength and affection.

Her expression relaxed a little. He always tells me how strong I am, but it's so much easier to be strong when he's with me. "Still on duty?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "But I can stay for a few minutes."

"She was sleeping so peacefully," Polanski kept going inside the interrogation room. "Just like Julia. But when I got on the bed she started to move around, like she was having a bad dream. I almost didn't bother stabbing her—"

Allyson sucked in a sharp breath and held tighter to her mother and Tim.

"—but I figured since I was already there…" Polanski shrugged his shoulders again and paused, drawing his eyebrows together, remembering the attack. "I held her wrists down just in case she started to move again, and right when I stuck the knife in she woke up! I tried to hold her still and finish her off, but she kicked and scratched and…and punched!" He unzipped his jumpsuit and pulled up his t-shirt with handcuffed hands to reveal a healing yellowish bruise on his abdomen. "Look what she did to me!"

Peggy sniffled, tears running down her face. "That's my girl," she managed in a quivering voice.

"I tried to get a few shots in and then I just got out of there," Polanski told them, disappointment evident in his voice even through the intercom. "Packed up the clothes I wore and my shoes and gloves in those zip-loc bags down the block so I wouldn't track anything from her house home with me. And I made sure to leave the knife in a yard where there wasn't a car—no one to find it in the morning."

"Oh my God," Allyson said softly, her astonishment clear. "He really did think it through. It was just his bad luck that I survived."

"Luck nothing—it was your will to live," Tim amended.

In the interrogation room the lawyers asked a few more questions, wringing every detail from Polanski before finishing up the formalities of the plea bargain.

"In accordance with our plea agreement, then," the State's Attorney concluded officially when both lawyers were satisfied, "as approved by Judge Harold Lawton, Aaron Polanski you are sentenced to serve a term in prison not less than that of your natural life, with no possibility of parole, in a facility to be determined by the Florida Department of Corrections."

"You're never getting out," Allyson told him through the glass with gritted teeth, her fear mixing with anger. "Except to go to hell."

"And you helped put him in there," Tim reminded her. "The exams and photographs at the hospital, the description of him and what he did, the lineup…you did all that."

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her eyes trained on Polanski as he was helped to his feet and led out of the interrogation room. Both Tim and Peggy noticed the hard look on her face and exchanged glances, sharing the same thought: Thank God this is finally over.

After a few minutes of standing in silence, Tim cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I, uh…I have to get back…"

Allyson shifted her attention from the empty room back to him, nodding again and smiling softly. "Go catch some more bad guys."

He met her gaze a moment and squeezed her hand warmly before releasing it. Bidding good-bye to Peggy, his fingers trailed over Allyson's back as he headed off, the unspoken promise of an off-duty phone call later on imparted through his touch.

———

Out in the waiting area, Amanda sat next to John Brooks, her arm looped through his, trying her best to keep him calm. Detective Tripp spotted them waiting for Peggy and Allyson and, deducing who they were, went over to talk to them.

"Mr. Brooks?"

John looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. "Yes?"

"Mr. Brooks, I'm Frank Tripp, the detective who worked on your daughter's case."

John shook the offered hand and gestured to an empty seat across from him. "Ally mentioned you, yes. Thank you so much for finding her attacker…we're grateful for everything you've done."

"I'm just glad I could help," Tripp replied, lowering himself onto the chair.

"You have children?" John asked.

Tripp nodded. "Three. And if something happened to one of them, I don't know what I'd do."

"You would be able to be there for them when they needed you," John responded, answering his own question. He dropped his head into his hands. "I tried," he continued, his voice wavering. "I really tried, but I couldn't be there for the confession. I just couldn't stand there and listen to that monster talk about what he did to my little girl…"

"Look, I don't know you, Mr. Brooks," Tripp began, watching Amanda console the man, "and I don't know what your relationship is like with your daughter. But I do know that when Allyson was attacked you flew all the way across the country to be with her. She needed you and you came." Tripp pressed his lips together, suppressing the vision of his family injured, dying in their bedrooms after an attack like Allyson's. "I only met your daughter a couple of times, but I can tell she's a smart girl," he continued as gently as he knew how. "And she knows how much her daddy loves her."

John lifted his face and watched as the detective rose from his seat. No other words were exchanged, only curt masculine nods, but the appreciation was evident in John's eyes. He's right, she does love me. And I'll be here as long as she needs me.