#

Forty five hours left.

Chloe stared blankly at the clock, sitting wrapped in a towel on the edge of the bed, just watching numbly. The second hand kept moving forwards. Tick tock. Tick tock. Chloe tilted her head as the movement of that fragile thread of plastic hypnotised her. Tick tock. Tick tock.

It didn't feel real.

How could she possibly accept that Trixie had less than two days left. She couldn't, but it didn't change anything. Trixie was still gone. Her entire body ached, a phantom pain. But it wasn't a limb she was missing, it was her daughter.

She'd rather lose the limb.

God she hated feeling helpless. Her heart went out to all of the other families who'd suffered like she was suffering. Only now did she fully understand the origin of that saying. Her heart really did feel like it was pulling away from her in pain. At least she still had forty-five hours of heart-wrenching hope. They had a lifetime of regret and bitterness to slog through.

Better, she had Lucifer.

Chloe groaned, furiously rubbing her hair dry with a towel as she thought. Lucifer didn't lie, but he'd taken the half-truth, misdirection, assumption and implication to the arts.

So. She certainly believed that Lucifer believed that Amenadiel was involved.

Would that help Trixie?

Maybe. If – and Chloe hated thinking about the mere possibility – if the deadline passed, then maybe it wasn't over. If Lucifer had the kind of criminal connections she thought he did… the ones they were sidestepping openly acknowledging, then maybe he could track Trixie through the underworld. He would know how Amenadiel worked; Lucifer would know Amenadiel's superiors too probably. The thought had her stomach in knots.

She had to hold herself together for a bit longer. She had more hope than most.

It would still be too late by that point of course. These monsters would have… hurt Trixie… by then. They probably already had. The statistics were brutally honest. Trixie would be alive, but that was it. There was a world of trauma they could have inflicted by the time Chloe saw her again.

A tiny little voice inside her said that that was all Lucifer had risked promising, but Chloe was a good mother. That voice was promptly hung drawn and quartered.

Chloe stood, holding the towel up with one hand, and went to the overnight bag Mazikeen had broken into her house for. Honestly, that was Lucifer all over, she thought, deliberately letting her irritation drown her terror over Trixie.

It was kind to offer hospitality, Chloe admitted reluctantly, and Lucifer's idea of a guest bedroom was ludicrous for a place he never used. It was the sort of bedroom that belonged in a magazine display. Still, sending Mazikeen to break into her house before asking if Chloe would like to hide out here for the next few nights, and then being so damned reasonable when he listed all the ways his apartment was a better idea was plain irritating. And wrong. He almost certainly had ulterior motives too.

Chloe trusted him, but she wasn't blind.

Tick tock.

Teeth gritted, Chloe rummaged for a clean set of clothes. A shower had been just what she needed to clear her head a bit and wake her up, but it was time to get back out there and do something. Anything.

She should probably call Dan. She didn't really want to talk to him, but it was the right thing to do. Trixie's situation wasn't his fault. It just felt good to blame someone she could reach. She knew that, but the what-if's were haunting her.

What if Dan hadn't been late? What if he'd put his daughter first for once? What if she'd realised Dan was never going to change? What if she'd stopped giving him chances? What if she'd just sat down and told Trixie the truth, that Daddy would rather finish his paperwork than attend her play? Would it have made a difference? Maybe if she had, things would be different.

It was far too late for those sorts of thoughts, Chloe knew it, and it didn't change a thing. Nevertheless she'd loved him once, so she'd call. It would be easier to talk to him if she didn't have to look at him too.

As long as she didn't tell him where she was staying tonight, Chloe thought reluctantly. That would send him into a right fit and then they wouldn't get anything done at all.

Pulling out a fresh outfit, Chloe dug around in the bag for a moment before she realised what was missing.

Knowing exactly what she was going to find, Chloe marched over to the wardrobe and opened the doors. She took one look and promptly shut them again. Then she checked the chest of drawers and sighed, collapsing forward and letting her head bang against the wood.

That bastard.

#

"Boss?"

Lucifer acknowledged Brent's return with a glance.

"I have news?" The lilt in his voice made it a question and not a statement. Lucifer felt a vague urge to throttle the man. Yes, he was The Devil. No, he wasn't a monster. Blame God for giving him the job if you were going to blame anyone. He might take a little pride in his work from time to time, but there was no call for that sort of prejudice just because he worked in a different office to the rest of the Host.

His mouth twisted as he realised he was irritated. Emotions. They were gaining on him.

Lucifer knew and accepted that he was a creature of passion. He revelled in emotion usually. They were fun. Usually, of course, a tiny spark of a seraph wasn't thwarting him.

Oh when he got his hands on Amenadiel…

Plucked. Chicken.

"B-B-Boss?"

Pulling his power back behind his skin, Lucifer waved his hacker-pet into the room. Connor had to walk right past Lucifer to get back to his desk, and it was no surprise when the mortal chose to give him a wide berth, circling around the side of the room instead.

Unable to resist such a lure of weakness, Lucifer waited until Connor was busy plugging in everything his earlier flight had pulled loose, before sidling silently up behind the man and dropping a hand on his shoulder.

Connor gave a startled jerk, most satisfying; somewhere between jumping a foot high and the rabbit-instinct to freeze and hope the fox thought you were just a really fluffy flower.

"News?" Lucifer purred, slowly shifting his hand from Connor's shoulder to start trailing across his exposed neck, goose bumps rising instantly at his touch. "I do hope it's good news."

Oh yes, this was just what he needed; damned souls made the best stress relief.

Connor was as stiff as a statue beneath his hand. Cheerfully, Lucifer pressed himself up against Connor until they were back to chest, then, delighting in the gasp he inspired, Lucifer wrapped one steel arm about Connor's waist and hooked his chin over other man's shoulder.

"I, erm, I think we should wait for Ms. Decker," Connor said breathlessly. "I don't want to have to explain it twice?"

Lucifer ignored his stalling tactics and slid his hand down Connor's arm. Connor had a white-knuckled grip on the mouse, but Lucifer was persistent. He intertwined their fingers together scorning Connor's stiff uncooperativeness with a tiny application of strength.

"Have you been a good hacker hmm?" Lucifer murmured, breath ghosting over the back of Connor's neck, the hairs standing up like toy soldiers. "Or have you been slacking?"

Connor remained silent, skin going visibly clammy under Lucifer's attention. His heart beat wildly, Lucifer could scent the fear drenching his prey, and he revelled in it.

Now thoroughly entertained, Lucifer used his position to watch the screen as his hand forced Connor's on the mouse, idly browsing the computer history. What he knew of computer coding wasn't much, but he made a note to learn it properly since it was proving so useful. Even so he had enough knowledge to double check what Connor had been up to, especially since Connor hadn't tried or hadn't thought to try hiding any of it.

Most of it was par for the course.

The rest…

Lucifer's laughter rung like a choir of angels throughout the room, the sound ambrosia for the soul. He was so amused he gave Connor an affectionate nuzzle before releasing him and stepping back, permitting him to collapse shakily into his chair and put his head between his knees.

"Survivalist videos?" Lucifer snickered, meandering over to the bar for a refreshing whisky. Feeling profoundly generous, he poured Connor a Coke. "Pet, Hell doesn't work that way. If you no longer fear a Neanderthal realm, it won't appear twice."

"Then how does it work?" Connor asked weakly, coming up for air and accepted the Coke gingerly, blinking with bemusement at Lucifer's mercurial temper. "I don't want to go back." If Lucifer hadn't been an archangel, he wouldn't have heard that last bit so quietly did he speak.

Lucifer rolled his eyes, and took a consoling taste of whisky. Humans. Always asking questions that they'd already been told the answers to.

"Lucifer!"

Chloe's growl instantly distracted him; Lucifer whirled about, charitably ignoring Connor's fervent prayer of thanks, and smiled widely. Her soul really was a bright one, underneath the faint skein of sin. He focused, wondering what precisely she'd -

"Eyes up," she snapped.

"Detective!" Lucifer scolded indulgently, but with eyes rising anyway, "I wasn't eyeing your breasts – although they are a very fine set my dear," he said quickly to reassure her, "I was admiring your soul. It's almost completely pure. Well done. Drink? It is after six now you know."

Chloe's face went into a spasm, and Lucifer frowned in concern. That was a new one. It wasn't one of her usual expressions. Not Lucifer-You-Handsome-Devil #3, or Why-Me #7, or even Are-You-Not-Human #2. Her hands twitched violently as if she were imagining wrapping them around his throat and Lucifer leaned forward eagerly, just in case.

Angry-sex was just fine with him. Perhaps that was what was wrong with her? Humans were so shy about their fetishes. Well she could do whatever she wanted to as long as she finally let him touch her.

She grabbed him by the front of his jacket and despite past disappointment, Lucifer let his hopes rise as she hauled him off away from the bar and Connor. A jacket, even Prada, was a cheap price to pay if it finally got her in the mood.

The Detective, however, seemed to live only to vex him. She did not drag him into a bedroom, hold him against a wall or even throw him onto the couch. No, she just moved him over to the windows, and for a breath, Lucifer wondered if she really did have an exhibitionist streak.

"I can't believe you," she began and Lucifer felt his wings droop, metaphysical feathers trailing over the floor.

Oh, this again. That was a no to the sex then. Eugh. He would never understand her.

"You are such a tease," he accused mournfully.

#

Chloe blinked. A tease? Her? "What?" she asked, and then held up a hand right in his face to hold him off. "No, don't start, I don't want to hear it."

"Not only," she started again, "do you make Mazikeen break into my house to steal my clothes, but-"

"-Would you have preferred new clothes?" Lucifer asked in his most helpful voice. "Because I have several ideas in mind for you." He gave her a beaming smile as he threw her tirade off track. "There are outfits set aside for you in the wardrobe already, but I can call my tailor –

The reminder sent a flame of rage through her.

"No."

Lucifer leaned back and huffed, like she'd mortally offended him. The hypocrisy made her hands throb with the need to wrap them around his throat and squeeze.

Chloe took a deep breath, double-checked that Brent wasn't eavesdropping and lowered her voice to a hiss.

"If you were going to send Mazikeen to commit crimes, couldn't you at least make sure she does a full job of it?"

That was as close as she would come to acknowledging what he'd done. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction otherwise.

Lucifer decided to go for wounded-innocence even as he eyed like she was speaking in tongues.

"Mazikeen is one of my best lieutenants. She'd never disobey a direct order."

Chloe deflated, feeling silly and a little embarrassed. Of course it wasn't deliberate. She was just stressed and venting at Lucifer because he was safe. It was so much easier to be annoyed over tiny things than it was to show her fear over Trixie. She straightened, started to apologise for acting so strangely when her eyes narrowed in suspicion and she halted them on the way back to the main area.

This was not your average-Joe. This was Lucifer. Lucifer who twisted words like yarn and could spin anything into a dozen different directions, a dozen different designs.

"What, exactly, were her orders," Chloe asked suspiciously. She was no longer murderously frustrated, but she knew better than to let any misbehaviour on Lucifer's part pass without comment. He needed both the stick and the carrot, like training a puppy.

"To fetch you the supplies you'd need for a few nights stay. Why?"

"Nothing," Chloe said through gritted teeth and marched back over to the sofa, where she could watch Brent work, sitting with her arms folded tightly. "Nothing at all."

Lucifer tilted his head as he examined her. Unfortunately, he knew her as well as she did him.

"If she's displeased you, you may set her punishment," Lucifer said easily, sitting right beside her, checking his phone.

Chloe considered that sentence, and decided she'd misheard. Instead she glanced over to the computer screens, not really sure of what she ought to be looking at and saw Brent looking back at her. Alright, maybe she hadn't misheard. She shared an uneasy look with the hacker and went back to ignoring the shivery feeling inside of her.

She was uncomfortably certain that if she told Lucifer she wanted Mazikeen flogged, he'd do it and Mazikeen would accept it.

"No," Chloe said carefully. "Nothing's wrong."

"Lie," Lucifer sighed. "Connor," he called not raising his voice in the slightest and clicking his fingers in Brent's direction like he was summoning a dog, "now that the Detective is here to protect you, I want that update."

#

"Well, Julie?" Agent Johnson asked, striding into the conference room they'd repurposed for their HQ whilst they were in L.A. "How did the computer virus work out?"

Julie winced, and Johnson sighed. He hadn't had much hope, but a lost lead still stung. The Collector didn't make enough mistakes, and getting one step ahead was a break all on it's own.

"Well it's not a complete failure," Julie said slowly as the rest of the team filed in and took seats around the table, shadows beneath their eyes as the stress of another hopeless case weighing them down.

"I can confirm a few suspicions. The email address was newly created, false information in all the sign-up fields, and the email was sent from a mobile phone. I have the number, but it belongs to a burner phone that doesn't have GPS. He connected to the Internet over an unsecured public Wi-Fi, and I have the I.P address."

"That's good," Michael interrupted. "We can scan the nearby CCTV and get an image."

"We could," Julie agreed weakly. "But the I.P address is for a Starbucks. I've already requested their CCTV footage, but that email was sent just before four, and that shop is right in between two schools. It would have been packed. It will take too much time to get any useful information."

"It's something new," Johnson interrupted, determined to focus on the positive, and to keep the team's spirits from flagging. "This is the first chance we've had. The Collector didn't expect the bug, so he thinks he's safe. Maybe he didn't wear a hat, maybe he used a credit card, hell maybe he used his own rewards card. It's a chance and it's more than we've had before, well done, Beck. Now, Michaels, Price. What do you have for us?"

"Something's going on with Espinoza," Price said instantly. "I don't know what, but he's hiding something sir."

"I don't think it's related directly to this case," Michaels added slowly. "He definitely cares for his daughter, but there's some guilt there too. It might be about the wife."

"She blames him," Johnson shrugged. "It's hardly uncommon for a marriage to break over something like this, and they were already separated. Unless you suspect it's some sort of ploy to get her back? Marriages can be strengthened by a shared loss and a detective would know that."

"No," Price shook her head, ponytail fluttering. "I think he suspects someone. We all know there's a leak here. A cop or maybe someone with access to a cop's keys had to have driven that squad car. I think Espinoza knows who it is. That would explain the guilt, but it doesn't explain why he isn't talking."

Johnson thought it over. It wasn't the strongest link, but Price had good instincts and the experience to know which ones to follow.

"Alright, keep the pressure on him. Whoever our leak is, they have a motive. Ask about enemies. We don't have much time, so go hard. An inside accomplice is new for our perp, and new means we can learn something. The accomplice is our best lead and a much easier one to track than The Collector."

Johnson normally tried to avoid looking at the clock on these sorts of cases, but his eyes grazed past one anyway. Time was moving much too fast. They had less than two days to find this guy before the girl was worse than dead.

"Beck, I need you to look into financial records. We know The Collector has money. Maybe someone here took a bribe. I want a list of everyone with access to the carpool keys. Officers, secretaries, interns, janitors, repairmen, deliverymen – anyone who could have walked in here without comment. Cross-reference them with the lists from his other targets. Maybe there's a link. Price, you're on Espinoza. Michael – you and I are going over that CCTV footage. We know when he sent the email so it's just a matter of eliminating faces on that timestamp. We'll get the staff to point out regulars, see if anyone was acting strange."

Michael nodded firmly, rubbing his hands down his face and through his hair. Johnson sympathised. He wasn't even close to retirement and he ached with fatigue.

He made his voice strong. "We have forty-three hours people. Lets make the most of them."

#