Another update for y'all! Starting from here we're beginning to see the end fold out. I'm so happy y'all have been liking this so much and it means so much to me to get so many sweet comments. As of right now I have a pretty good idea how the rest of the events are going into fall into place. Until next time!
Malcolm comes out of the room, finally. Ainsley and Edrisa's lighthearted conversation ended abruptly with his appearance. He looks simultaneously lighter and like he has the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders. His eyes don't quite meet the crowd anxiously awaiting his input.
"She talked to me." His smile is a sad one. One that he's seen plenty of times after talking to a victim's family. When he knows that they'll be ok, although changed forever. "The killer is a cop."
Dani casts an alarmed look at him and Edrisa stiffens. JT, who clearly had been listening outside the door comes in with a deep scowl on his face. "Who is it?"
"She doesn't know. The killers were wearing masks the entire time but she saw enough to identify the uniform." He shifts from side to side. One of their own. "It explains a lot."
"That's why your mom was asking 'where is he' in the precinct." A flash of guilt and understanding passes over Dani's face. She quickly covers it with one of curiosity instead. "So how do we narrow him down?"
"Well based on her description he's white, late thirties to early forties judging on his voice. Fit build in order to carry bodies and super religious."
"How does she tell he was religious?"
"She didn't. The surgeon did." Gil states. Edrisa's face sinks turning back to Malcolm. He nods at her, a promise that he's ok if a little tired. "When I visited him Dr. Whitly talked about the needle's eye. It was the name the killers claimed just before Jess escaped."
"The needle's eye?" Ainsley asks, she kept up with the news being a journalist but it's the reference she's not familiar with. Not that Gil blames her, none of the Whitly's really grew up religious.
"It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God." Gil recites, Martin's tone still fresh in his mind. The room holds still for a second, processing.
"A religious white cop in his early 40s. Simple." Dani shrugs bitterly. She's right, half of the cops in their precinct alone could match that description. It doesn't help that they can't pass along the information. They've seen this play out too many times. Defensive tones and screaming matches. More intent on protecting friends than the people they're meant to serve. Even when there's undeniable proof, they'd sooner fall on the sword than turn against a fellow officer.
All of the people he trusts are in this building.
"I'll speak to Jess." Gil sighs. None of them argue, with Ainsley still processing his words and Dani and JT stirring in the anger of yet another corrupt cop. It's Edrisa who breaks the tension.
"Bright, why don't we make some tea for your mom?" It's a small question but the relief on Malcolm's face is immediate. His answer is an eager nod and quick steps. He knows the steps of his mom's drink by heart but her presence is an ease on the pressure.
Ainsley's heel taps 3 times. It's an anxious tick to keep her own tears at bay. Dani stands and tosses her head at the door. "Let's go on a drive."
Her eyes go comedically wide. "Me? No, I'm fine." Dani evens her with one look. When a Whitly says their fine, it is a guaranteed lie. "Well, everyone should eat and I doubt Gil has enough food for 7 people."
He laughs but knows what each of them are doing. His walls are thin. Without the noise of casual chatter, either Whitly would be able to hear their mom and if it got tense? It would be something Jess wouldn't want either of them to hear. He swells, just a little, feeling grateful that his team will take care of his family.
Now for him to as well.
When he comes in Jessica looks annoyed, knowing that he needs to go through the process of questioning all over again. "Dani and Ainsley are going to get food." Her eyebrows furrow. "I can send them to your favorite diner."
"It's not my favorite." She pushes and it makes him smile. He'd taken her to a rundown diner shortly after Martin's arrest. It was a hole-in-the-wall place, the food greasy and burnt coffee permeating the air. It was a place where nobody would recognize her, everyone too focused on just getting by to be caught up on the socialite drama. They frequented there for years and no matter how many times she insisted it wasn't her favorite, her eyes lit up in a special way when she ordered the cherry pie.
"Sure it's not." He sits in the seat across from her. Her eye roll is a gratifying one, it's clear she's beginning to feel more like herself. "So what didn't you tell Malcolm."
She gapes, ready to defend herself. But he tilts his head with a knowing stare. She sighs, annoyed and relents. "I told him most of it."
"Most?"
"How I got shot, stabbed." She looks to the door, "He wouldn't leave until I did. After I told him…" That the killer is a cop, he finishes in his head, "he didn't trust anyone else to question me."
"Did you talk about Freddy?" The look on her face is enough to tell him no, she hadn't. "We found his family."
"God." She breathes.
"His name was Francisco Garcia, he was a volunteer at Claremont." Her face drops, already coming to the realization before he says anything. "His mother is Dr. Garcia."
For a moment she sinks back into herself. For one terrifying moment he thinks she'll shut down again. And then she laughs.
It's deep and bitter, where every emotion is so strong, so overwhelming. Too many tears had been shed in the past two weeks that the empty laugh is haunting. He knows it'll be in his nightmares. "Of fucking course." She takes a deep breath and he knows if she were in her own home she'd be throwing something. But since it's not she controls herself not to break anything of his. "He was connected to Martin."
"That's why you went to see him."
"Yes." She stands, her energy too much now. She paces back and forth in the small space between his bed and closet. She turns back to him, eyes wild with unkempt rage. "You know what he asked me?" She shakes her head. "He asked someone broke into our home. Our home!" She tosses her head back, her wild curls flying with the motion. "That bastard hasn't lived there for 20 fucking years and he dared to call it our home. And," She gasps remembering more. "And he looked at me. Concerned! Like he has any fucking right. It just-" Another gasp. "It reminded me of-"
He walks to her holding his hands out slowly. She eyes the movement warily but when he places her hands on her shoulders she breathes evenly again, though still furious. His fingers stroke the exposed skin from where his shirt that she was wearing had slipped down.
She steadies herself with his touch. "What gives him the right? He doesn't care for us. He wants to control us." Her eyes light again. "And- He knew! He knew that bastard is a cop. That all this time. When he threatened Malcolm and Ainsley. And he acts like he cared!"
"The killer threatened Malcolm and Ainsley?"
"I wasn't cooperating. He told me he'd bring them in and make them choose between me or a stranger." Gil takes a shaky breath. "And Martin knew. I called Malcolm our son." Her voice breaks at that, her head bowing into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and her own come to grip the back of his tee shirt tightly at his shoulder blades. She clings on like if she loosens her hold for even a second, he'll disappear.
He presses a kiss to her temple whispering soft comforts to her while they rocked back and forth. He rubs soothing circles between her shoulders careful of places where he knows that bruises still linger. When she finally calms down he doesn't know what to say. If he lets her speak first she'll apologize, pull herself away from him. He won't let her do that so he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "You know, Malcolm punched a journalist."
This laugh is lighter. Her shoulders shake in a new way, alleviating all the tension in the room. It fills the hollowness that her confession had left. She must have pictured it because her laugh gets louder and he can't help but laugh too.
And he knows they'll be ok.