Jennifer felt eyes on her in the car and felt the strongest urge to hide. But she didn't. She kept driving the car. They were nearly there, anyway.
"Ma'am?" came Karin Smith's tentative voice.
"I just got yelled at and guilted by my husband, Smith, I don't need it from you. If you don't think I'm capable of leading an observational investigation, you can sit in the car," Jen snapped.
"No, ma'am, I wasn't going to say that," Karin replied, thoroughly rebuked. "It's just…"
"Yes?" Jen was in no mood for bashfulness.
"It's just really lovely, how much he loves you. He's our sergeant and we see one side of him, but when you and the kids are around, it's just…it's just really, really nice."
Jen felt a little bad for scolding Karin. She felt all warm inside at her words and could not help but smile. "Nick and I had a tough road," she explained softly. "And if our roles were reversed, I know he'd do the same thing as me. And that's why I can't just sit back and do nothing. What I told him is the truth, and I'm not going to do anything to put myself or either of you in danger. I just can't do nothing."
"We're with you, ma'am," Oliver Taylor said from the backseat. Jen glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Taylor's eye and they shared a nod of understanding.
Two minutes later, Jen had reached the street where the getaway car had been spotted. Sure enough, it was parked right out front of an apartment building. This wasn't the best area of town, and Jen would have bet good money that after dark, these streets weren't so deserted and those alleyways were rife with all kinds of criminal activity. But none of that was of any concern to her now. She pulled the car over on the other side of the street and parked it.
"Are we going to do a doorknock?" Karin asked.
"Not just yet. I want to see what's going on first," Jen replied.
Oliver unbuckled his seatbelt and sat forward. "What are you expecting to see?"
It was very clear to Jen why Oliver Taylor fit so well on Nick's team. He was very like Nick in a lot of ways; they both shared the same traits that made for a great Homicide detective—quiet, decisive, gentle, observant, and always learning and improving. Jen felt a surge of affection for him in that moment. When this was all over, she would have to talk to Nick more about Oliver.
But she told him, "I don't quite know yet. I want to see if anyone goes to that car. I want to see if anyone goes in or out of that building. The streets are pretty empty now, but how empty? How often does anyone walk by? And can we see anything through the windows? So settle in, we're going to be watching for a while, I think."
A quiet laugh came out of Karin, prompting Jen to look at her questioningly. Karin explained, "I know you got a desk job because of your family and all, and I know Sergeant Buchanan doesn't want you out in the field because of all that, but you're brilliant. I wish you were still on our team. Jarvis is right, you're the best."
Jen was quite chuffed at that. She turned her attention back out the window and smiled to herself. "Terry can't pronounce my name, but don't let that fool you. The man knows what he's talking about."
Before anyone could say anything else, the front door of the apartment building opened. A man came out looking a bit fidgety. He was tall and thin and wore jeans and a gray jumper. He walked right up to the blue car and opened the boot. He looked up and down the street, clearly nervous about being watched. The man pulled a black carryall out, closed the boot, and went back inside.
"Oliver?" Jen did not turn towards him, her eyes glued to the building.
"Yeah?"
"Call Jarvis and get some backup here. And Smith?"
"Yes?"
"We're going to do that doorknock now."
Meanwhile, Nick was still reeling from his phone call with Jen. Bernice took her phone back, leaving Nick to just stare at his empty hand.
"Dad? Where's Mum?"
The sound of his son's voice roused him from his stupor. "Mummy's working," Nick replied. He'd given them that answer many times before. And usually it was true. This time it felt like half a lie. Jen was working, but she wasn't doing the job she was supposed to be doing. But Nick knew and understood that Jen was doing exactly what she needed to do, and he couldn't begrudge her that. Professionally he understood it and personally he understood it. As her former detective partner, he was proud of her for pressing forward and doing what needed to be done. As her husband and father of her children, he was terrified out of his wits.
"Nick," came Bernice's soft voice.
He looked up at her but said nothing.
"Would you rather me be here or at the station?" she asked kindly. "I can be here and check in with Terry and Rhys on the phone and sit with you and Cody and Ella, or I can leave the three of you be and go help out at the station. Where do you want me?"
There was a lump in his throat as Nick contemplated the generosity of that question. And it took him a moment to answer her because he did not know the right answer. It would be a help to have Bernice with him, so he could know firsthand whatever she knew, so he wouldn't be left in the dark on anything and would have her assistance with the children if need be. But she could probably be more useful if she were to go back to the station or even be on the scene if there was a raid; she was a brilliant tactical general, moving all the troops where they needed to be and coordinating it all. "Stay," he rasped out. As good as she was at being Commander of Crime, Bernice Waverly was also the godmother to his children and his daughter's namesake and one of his and Jen's best friends. And with all that had happened and all that was still happening, Nick knew he was not strong enough to be alone.
Bernice nodded. "I'll be right here. I'm going to call in and see if there's an update and tell Terry to keep us in the loop."
While Bernice stood in the corner to make her call, Nick's arm got tugged by his sweet daughter. "Daddy, where's Mummy?" she asked him. There was a certain tone in her voice that he was very familiar with. "When's Mummy coming back? I need Mummy to come back. Will you call her?" Ella was getting overwhelmed. This happened, sometimes. She was a very quiet child and often very even-keel. But when something upset her, she got obstinate and anxious and often inconsolable. Her voice cracked and wavered, a sure sign she was about to have some kind of outburst.
Nick reached out to her, trying not to wince in pain as he did. "Come here, bug. Come here to me, please," he beckoned.
Ella climbed up onto the bed and scooted herself into his arms. Nick nearly cried out when he brushed up against one of his many surgical wounds. But he kept it inside. He would be alright. Ella needed him now. This was more important than his comfort and more than worth a little pain.
"Shh, it's okay, Ell. Everything's going to be fine. Mummy will be back soon."
"I need Mummy back now," she whined.
"Ella, take three deep breaths for me," he told her. "Rest your head right here and count my heartbeats, okay? Focus on just breathing and counting my heartbeats." This was what Jen always did for Ella when she got panicky. Usually there was some very obvious reason for her distress, like if Cody broke something of hers or if she was getting in trouble for something. But this was a less obvious circumstance. Nick could not fix what he did not know was wrong, other than having Jennifer appear in the room with them to comfort their daughter. All he could do was try to keep her calm.
Cody sat on the end of the bed by Nick's feet and watched with concern etched into his every little feature. "Why's Ella upset?" he asked.
Nick did not actually know and he did not want Ella to get fixated on whatever it was, so Nick just told Cody, "Everyone's had a really hard few days. We all just need to be kind and gentle to each other, okay? Ella's gonna be fine. Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Cody replied. But he held up his bright green plaster cast. "My arm hurts."
For some reason, Nick almost wanted to smile at that. It was torture knowing that his son was in pain and that he himself had been the cause of it, throwing Cody to the ground and breaking his arm in the fall. But just as he'd told Ella, hurting meant being alive. And that was better than the alternative. Nick just answered, "When Auntie Bernice gets off the phone, she can help you. But you've been really strong and really brave, mate, and I'm really proud of you."
A sparkle of elation appeared in Cody's eyes. He was alright. And Ella was resting on his chest, crushing his surgical wounds but finally starting to step back from the brink of a breakdown. For now, just for now, they were all alright. If only Jen were there with them.