Chapter Fifty

Daily Vice

They poured over more files from Kent's shredder, hoping to get more information, before Peter pulled Nora into his office to go over what they'd learned. "Found another document in the shredder," he explained, handing over a file. She flipped through it. "It's addressed to an unnamed foreign intelligence agency to arrange a meeting in the next month and a half."

"The trips he's been taking," she noted. "Kent knew he wouldn't win the defense contract from our country in time."

"So he decided to sell his device to another government," he concluded.

"It's treason for profit."

"Hayes didn't want any part of that. That's why Kent killed him."

She nodded, all of the pieces finally falling in place. "Corporate espionage is the perfect cover." She dropped the file on the desk. "He made it look like a competitor stole the working product."

"Company saves face. If a foreign government turns up with it later-"

"Kent's in the clear, Hayes stays quiet," she concluded. "How do we prove it when Kent hasn't committed treason yet?"

"He has committed murder," he reminded her, standing up to pace slowly. "The CEO is concerned about anyone finding out what he's really up to. "Maybe Hayes talked to someone before he died." She followed his gaze down to the bullpen, where Jessica sat with Jones.

"You wanna use Jessica as bait?" The idea didn't sit well in her stomach.

"I'm meeting Kent in the afternoon. Maybe I can hint to him that she knows something."

She met his eyes evenly. "He'll come after her."

"And when he does, we take him down." She cast another glance down to the bullpen. "Think she's up to it?"

"She's certainly driven," she conceded, rising out of her chair to study the woman.

"Yeah, that's what worries me," Peter admitted. "I'm not sure if she wants revenge or justice."

She got the sinking suspicion he wasn't strictly talking about Jessica anymore. "I can't blame her either way."

"You have empathy for that woman." It wasn't a question, it was an observation.

She rounded on him, eyes taking a hard edge. "What if I do?"

He met her gaze evenly, and Nora got the impression he'd been wanting to voice this thought for a while. "There's a right way to things and a wrong way. Revenge is the wrong way." His voice was even and patient, but firm. "It's short-sighted and it's dangerous."

She raised an eyebrow. "What's justice, then?"

"It's restoring order, not furthering chaos." She swallowed hard. "You kept that recording data from me. I hope you don't have any more secrets."

"Likewise," she shot back, her rash and impulsive side taking over. His brow furrowed. She realized it would be a good time to stop talking, but she couldn't help herself, letting her frustration boil close to the surface. "You talk to Diana lately?"

"Not today."

"You trust her?"

"As much as you trust your friend." His eyes never wavered, his answers held no hesitation. "Is there a problem?"

She licked her lips, recomposing herself. "What happens if we do find Fowler? What comes next?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Together." Her shoulders slumped, not satisfied with his answers but aware it was the best she was going to get. "Now, let's prep the team for what we have today." He headed through the door, and after a moment's hesitation, she followed.


Everything was in place. Nora seemed to get her head back in the game after their heated conversation, and Peter tried to follow suit. It was a bad time to get caught up worrying about Nora and her precarious mental state. Trusting her to do her part, Peter focused on his own, heading into Kent's office for their meeting. Late afternoon light flooded through the window, painting everything tones of sepia.

"An advance copy of my report," he announced, dropping a file down on the desk. "Your company has nothing to worry about." Kent leafed through, silent for a moment.

"Well," he said evenly, flipping the file closed, "this is cause for celebration." He stood and made his way over to a small bar in the corner, a bottle of Armagnac and several glasses already out and ready to go.

Peter chuckled, following after him. "There is one other thing about one of your staff members," he noted. "Jessica Breslin was involved with one of your former employees in Research and Development. Joseph Hayes."

Kent's expression was tight as he poured the drinks. "How do you know this?"

"Cross-referenced expense reports between your workers to see if any of them were in league to bilk funds," he lied. "Apparently, the two of them shared a hotel room a few weeks in a row. When I confronted Miss Breslin about it, she asked me not to say anything. I thought you might wanna deal with her appropriately."

"Well, I will take care of Miss Breslin," he said stiffly, but his face betrayed nothing. "Now, more importantly, have you thought any more about my offer?"

Peter sighed, silent for a moment. "I hate to sound like a broken record, but I've already got a job."

"Ah, okay," Kent relented. "Well, if you change your mind..."

"I appreciate that, Wesley."

Kent slid a glass of Armagnac over. "You on the job?"

"It is after six," Peter allowed. "I won't tell anyone." They clinked their glasses together and took a swig.


Nora waited impatiently on the street. Peter would be down any time, and the car would be there to take Jessica to the safe house. As if on cue, Jessica came up behind Nora. "Hey," Nora greeted. "Doing okay?" The woman nodded, a sad smile on her lips. "An agent will be here any second. She's gonna need your phone and all forms of ID for the protection detail." Jessica started rummaging through her purse. "Pretty calm for somebody who's about to go into hiding."

Jessica bit out a humorless laugh. "I thought I was supposed to be relieved."

Nora's phone started ringing and she dug it out to answer. "Hello?"

"Are you sitting down?" Mozzie asked in way of greeting.

She turned away from Jessica, brow furrowed. "What is it, Moz?"

"Sitting or standing?" he insisted.

"I'm standing."

"Then you better hold onto something. I did some additional checking." He hesitated for a second. "Peter knows Diana has the box."

Her stomach twisted painfully. "What?" she breathed.

"I… I didn't want to say anything until I was sure, but the trail for the box just goes cold with him. Nora, there can't be any other explanation." She didn't answer, dumbfounded. "Nora?"

She turned around, trying to process what Mozzie had told her. Jessica had returned to digging through her purse, and something caught her eye. A pen… the pen, the secret recording pen with Kent's voice on it. "I'll call you back," she muttered, ice creeping through her for another reason. She hung up without another word.

Before Jessica could react, Nora snatched the pen and clicked the button. Kent's voice played out like a death knell. "Why do you have this?" she demanded.

"Uh… I… I found it on your desk and-"

"You were in Kent's office," Nora spat. "What did you do, Jessica?"

Jessica sighed, eyes growing hard. "I want him to know how it feels to die the way that Joseph died."

"Poisoned him? How?"

She smiled a small, vindictive smile. "His daily vice, the Armagnac."

Nora's heart flip-flopped. "Peter's in there with him." She didn't give Jessica a chance to respond before rushing back toward Novice. She raced through the lobby, drawing the attention of the guard at the desk. "I need to get to the top floor," she demanded, breathless from her run.

"Nobody gets to the top floor," he protested.

"This is an emergency," she huffed.

"What's the emergency?"

There wasn't time for that; the poison was fast. "Please!"

"I've got to check with Mr. Kent-"

"Yes, good, yes, check with Kent." The second he had his back turned, she sprinted toward the security checkpoint and hopped the gate. The man's voice rang out after her, but she paid him no mind. "Call 911," she called back to him, sliding to a stop in front of the elevator.

Mercifully, an elevator opened immediately before her. "Get back here," the man called as she jabbed the door shut button. "I will call the police!"

"Good, call the paramedics," she yelled as the doors slid shut. The man banged his hands against the metal. She stared at the control panel, cursing her forethought to toss Ellen's key card.

"You need to exit the elevator now, ma'am," the guard called.

"Will you send me up to Kent's floor?"

"Hell no."

"Then I can't." She pulled a multi-purpose tool that she kept tucked in her purse out and started unscrewing the panel as quickly as her fingers would allow. She could hear the guard talking into his walkie talkie, but channeled his voice out, falling into a state of focus on the task at hand, willing her heart beat to slow so she could concentrate.

The panel fell open and she got to work fiddling with the wires. How hard could it be to hot wire an elevator? After a little trial and error, the card reader beeped, and access was granted to Kent's floor. She pressed the button and up it went.

It felt like it was moving entirely too slow. She paced impatiently in front of the door, worry and fear gnawing in her stomach. She tried to push them away, but the clock was ticking; Peter didn't have long.

Finally, the door slid open and she ran faster than she remembered running ever before. The door to Kent's office was open. "Peter!" she called. He was sprawled on the floor, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling in shallow, uneven breaths. She slid to a stop in front of him, sparing only a passing glance at Kent, unconscious on the sofa.

Peter didn't react when she grabbed him under the arms and started scrambling her feet against the tile as she started dragging him back toward the elevator. Nora wasn't the strongest woman, and Peter wasn't a particularly small man. The trek back to the elevator was laboriously slow, and she could practically hear the seconds ticking away in her head. She cursed and sputtered under his weight, fighting back tears of worry and frustration.

It felt like forever before she was able to prop him against the wall. "It's gonna be okay," she cooed, slamming her hand against the elevator call button. "Stay with me, alright. Hang in there."

He looked up at her with glassy eyes. "Kent," he managed.

"No, no, Peter, we don't have time. Come on."

"You can't leave him," he protested. His voice was weak, words slurred, but there was resolve in them.

Tears stung in her eyes. "You are dying, Peter!"

"Nora." He grabbed her shoulder with a languid hand, fighting with every bit of strength he had left. She met his eyes, choking back a sob. "We don't leave anybody behind."

Damn it, Peter, why do you always have to be so noble? She gulped down as much air as she could, steeling herself.

She bolted back to the office for Kent.

It seemed to take even longer the second time, one of her heels snapping under the strain as she dragged Kent's listless, unconscious body toward the elevator. Her strength was waning as they made the slow descent toward the lobby, Peter's head cradled in her lap. She allowed herself to cry, hot tears streaking down her cheeks.

By some miracle, the security guard had listened to her pleas that an ambulance be called. Officers and paramedics were waiting outside the elevator when the door slid open. They wasted no time springing to action, getting both men onto gurneys and wheeling them out. She followed behind helplessly.

"Heart stopped," one of the paramedics said. "I need the epinephrine." Another pulled a large syringe out of their bag and handed it over. They jammed the needle into Peter's chest and pressed down the plunger.

Nora couldn't look away, wondering if she was too late, if she was going to watch Peter die in front of her. Because of Kent.


Both men survived. The paramedics wheeled them out to the street. Diana was waiting and cuffed Kent to the rail of the gurney as he was coming back to consciousness. "Wha… What are you doing?"

"You confessed to a federal agent," Peter said as he was rolled up next to Kent. Diana handed him his badge, and he flashed it open. Despite his ordeal, he managed a small smile. "You're under arrest for the murder of Joseph Hayes."

Kent was dumbfounded. "You can't be serious."

"'You give me the facts, I'll give you the law.'" Peter slumped back, satisfied. Diana gestured for them to take Kent away. "Thanks, Di." She squeezed his hand.

Nora stopped by his side, her gait uneven on her broken heel. "I'm not the only one who makes dumb decisions," she accused as she grabbed his wrist, trying her best to tease, but her voice trembled. Her face was red and splotchy, eyes puffy from crying.

"Saving Kent?" he guessed.

"You're taking this innocent until proven guilty thing a little too far."

"If he lives or dies, it's not my call," he said flatly. He could see how the whole thing had torn at her, frayed her nerves, but he wouldn't have slept soundly knowing another man died so that Peter would live. And, though she may not have realized it herself, he knew willingly letting a man die would have eaten her up inside when everything was all said and done.

"Whose is it?" she asked.

"You do what's right," he said, like it was that simple. "Let the pieces fall where they fall." Her hand fell away from his, and the paramedics wheeled him away.


"'Do what's right,'" she mused as they loaded Peter into the ambulance. That was easier said than done.

Pushing it out of mind, she turned toward Diana. "She said she didn't mean to hurt Peter," Diana explained. Jessica was being led away in handcuffs by an agent. "She had no idea he would be having a drink with Kent."

"What happens to her now?" Nora wondered.

Diana crossed her arms. "Gotta charge her with attempted murder," she said flatly. "She can't just walk away from this." With that, Diana left Nora to her thoughts. And a lot of thoughts she was left with.

Sighing, Nora headed home.

Peter spent a couple nights in the hospital as he recovered his strength. Nora had visited with Elizabeth. To her credit, El was holding up like a trooper. She'd hugged and thanked Nora profusely. All Nora could think about was how easily the situation could have been different. If she'd been even a moment later getting them into the elevator, Elizabeth might have been burying her husband. Each time the thought reared its head, Nora had to swallow down the bile that rose in her throat.

A few more days recuperating at home, and Peter was cleared to return to work. Nora visited him in his office first thing that morning. "Looking good," she noted brightly, standing in the doorway.

"Feeling better," he assured her, smiling broadly. "I got a clean bill of health this morning." He moved to take a sip of his coffee, complete with its ugly FBI mug.

"You know, there's a coffee shop a couple blocks away. I hear they make a pretty nice espresso."

"This tastes just fine to me," he insisted.

"Oh, come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "You can't tell me you don't miss it." She stepped into the office, idling slowly as she played with her hair. "The imported beans, the giant office and swanky suite."

He leaned back in his chair, considering it for a second with his finger laced together. "Alright," he decided, "I'm gonna humor you for a second. What if I went corporate right after college? Best-case scenario, I became a millionaire."

She laughed. "Sounds like a pretty good scenario."

"Mm. One with a flip-side. What if I never joined the FBI?" he mused.

"Would have made my life easier," she joked.

"Yeah, mine too. But, what if, twelve years ago, I was never assigned to an art gallery scam downtown? What if…" He paused, eyes far away. "I never met this assistant manager? No, there are more important things in life than a nice view." She was silent, not meeting his gaze. "Like having people in your life you care about. I don't want to imagine the man I would be without those people. I like the man I am."

With a sigh, she sat down across from him. "'Do what's right,'" she muttered.

"Yeah."

She finally met his eyes. She'd had a lot of time to think, and anger didn't bubble inside her this time. "You lied to me about the music box," she said flatly. He drew in a deep breath. "I know you still have it."

"How did you find-"

"Mozzie found the sheet music," she explained, cutting him off. "It wasn't hard from there. You want to talk about it?"

He held her gaze for a moment, scrutinizing her. She kept her face smooth, passive, unreadable. "If you're ready to listen," he decided.

"I wanna see it." He nodded slowly.

That evening, after darkness had spread through the city, she found herself face-to-face with the box once more as it sat on her kitchen table between Peter and herself. "I didn't tell you everything for your own protection," Peter said evenly. "I don't know what you're gonna do, and neither do you."

She glanced up at him. "I know my options," she snapped.

He sighed deeply. "Revenge or justice, right?" She swallowed, eyes falling on the box once more. "Nora, as long as I'm involved, it's gonna be the latter."

"What if justice isn't good enough?" she asked, voice small.

"It has to be. It will be."

She wasn't so sure, but voicing that opinion was a bad idea. Instead, she changed the subject. "What'd you find?"

Clearly, he saw what she was doing, but went along with it anyway. "There's a piece of the box that's still missing, right here," he noted, pointing out a small hole in the lid. "At first, I thought it was one of the cherubs that had broken off. But if you look more closely, it hasn't broken off. It's a keyhole. The missing piece is a key."

Without a word, Nora pulled her purse off the back of the chair and dug through it, pulling out the missing cherub that Alex had given to her. 'I'm giving up my obsession,' she'd said.

Peter stared at it blankly for a moment. "Which you have."

With a sigh, and a small, sad smile, Nora put the key into the keyhole. "No more secrets, Peter."

He nodded. "No more secrets." She twisted the key, and all of the cherubs spun. Together, they lifted the lid.