Again, sorry for the wait and, again, thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows :) I'm pretty sure that this chapter is going to be really short (sorry!) but that's because whilst I know what I want to happen, I'm not sure how exactly to write it :3
Also, I actually tried to upload a couple of days ago, but the login page wouldn't work so I couldn't actually log in :/
As always, please review, favourite or follow if you like it - and even PM me if you want :)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing to do with the Fosters. This story should also not be used to kill people and get away with murder (mainly because of moral reasons but also as I'm not sure it'd work... :p )
Updated 11/07/17
CHAPTER TWELVE
When Stef went to bed the night before, she certainly did not expect to be woken up at informed six-thirty with a call from the station informing her about a possible murder, nor the said murder's cover-up. However, that was, of course, how her day started and it just went downhill from there.
For starters, the precinct was out of coffee, making Stef incredibly regretful about skipping her morning drink as she'd rushed to get to the station. Not only that, but the entire place was flooded with officers and reporters - apparently the jogger who'd found the note had stupidly gone and told the press. She'd barely had a moments piece and it was doubtful that she'd get any for the next couple of weeks.
"Stef!" She looked up sharply at the familiar voice of her ex-husband. Mike half walked, half-jogged over to her, a happy smile on his face. "Hey, there's been a call from the presinct. Apparently there's been a case of arson that's just been reported, the fire department are on the way, though the fire seems to have long burned out, and they need a couple of officers to go too. Do you want to check it out - it'll give you a break from this and it's been ages since you or I have had a case of arson?"
She blinked in surprise, before smiling warmly at the man and nodding. ""Sure, I'll get my jacket."
...
The building was an old warehouse. An old, abandoned warehouse. An old, abandoned, burnt warehouse. And something about it definitely did not seem accidental.
"Yup." Mike nodded, surveying the sight of the building as Stef voiced her thoughts to him. "We better look around."
Agreeing, Stef headed inside, wary of any loose materials as she entered the falling-to-pieces building. At first, she couldn't see anything that usual, bar the discarded beer cans - some prior, some post the fire - but then, as her flashlight swept the room, she spotted it.
The charred remains of a body.
A human body.
"MIKE!" She screamed, bile rising up in her throat, "Mike, we have a problem!"
...
Like Stef, Lena had had a rather chaotic day. Between getting the kids out of the house, giving a tour of the school to a potential student and his parents, and going to three different staff meetings, she hadn't had an opportunity to have a five minute break until mid-afternoon. And to make matters worst, she then found out that her oldest foster child had been absent for her first and second classes, having skipped them.
By the time she'd gotten home and made food for everyone she was in desperate need for a drink and wanted nothing more than the comforting arms of her partner.
When Stef arrived home, quieter than usual and unable to get the image of the crispy, blackened corpse out of her mind, Lena was relieved.
Pulling her wife to the side, she informed her of what Callie had done, handing her the note Timothy, Callie's English teacher - who'd been teaching one of the classes that she'd missed - had given her.
Lena had expected for her to want to lecture the teen and possibly ground her. What she hadn't expected was for Stef's eyes to widen and for the woman to all but sprint to the fridge, yanking the door open and turning to count the beer bottles in it.
"There's only five beers. There should be six, Lena. There were six yesterday, one's missing!"
"What?" Lena frowned, confused and unable to understand Stef's thought prosess. "Are you sure? Why does that matter? Shouldn't we talk about-?"
"It was the same brand that I have." Stef muttered, thinking allowed and confusing her partner even more.
"What, Stef? What are you on about?"
"Love, I'm - I'm sorry." Stef shot her an apologetic look. "I need to go back to the station, it's about a case we got today..."
"Oh, okay." Pushing her disappointment aside, Lena nodded, "Sure, you just.. go. I'll keep your dinner warm."
"Thanks, Love." With a quick peck on the lips, Stef hurried out of the house, and got into her car, closing the car door behind her, before leaning back in her seat and trying to clear her thoughts.
She'd recognised that handwriting.
Callie's handwriting was the same as the one on the mystery note.
Callie had, more than likely, wrote the note.
There was a chance she was housing a murderer.