This is a sequel to "Three Can Keep a Secret (if two of them are dead)". It can be read alone but you may be confused.

TW: Referenced human sex trafficking, referenced rape, blackmail.

One week after Cole's return to the DPD

Connor woke to a touch on his shoulder. The world was blurry and, at first, he thought he was still asleep. A figure invaded his vision and he recoiled instinctively. He blinked rapidly and scrubbed at his ears with numbed hands. They said something.

"Uh." His voice cracked and he tried to clear it. The cough which had built a home in his chest made itself known. Connor thumped his chest and spat. "W-what did you s-say?" Oh. He was shivering. That was good. That… yes, that was good. His attention wavered.

"I asked if you were okay." They had shifted away while he coughed. His vision was still blurry - it was getting dark.

"H-hello-o." He replied. His eyes wandered away and he felt the brief burst of adrenaline fade away. He needed to move.

"Yeah." They sighed. "I'm sorry, that was a stupid question." The voice was light and a little higher than his own. "I'm sorry. I saw you over here and I wanted to make sure you were alive. It's very cold out." She drifted closer. "My name is Kara. Can I ask yours?"

Kara. "K-Kara." He chattered back. His hands were numb. "I'm C-Connor." He tried to smile but he wasn't sure it worked.

"I understand if you say no, but I promise I'm not a serial killer." Connor stared blankly back. He knew there was a joke somewhere but his ability to comprehend was severely impaired and he was doing everything he could just to understand her words, never mind hidden meanings. "Would you like to come home with me? I help at some shelters and, well they're all filled up. I'm sure you're aware of that. It's supposed to get below zero tonight." She trailed off.

"Uh." Connor seemed to be using that word a lot tonight, but he couldn't help his vocabulary considering his entire brain was frozen. "H-how do you know I w-won't hurt y-you?" He worried for her apparent willingness to take a homeless stranger home - this was not regular behavior for a woman!

"Well." Her head tilted and he focused his vision on her face. She gave him a long once-over. "No offense, but you aren't exactly in your top-form, right now. And if it comes down to it, my husband will be home and he's not easily intimidated." She huffed a laugh.

Connor found himself staring at her lips to catch her words. His ears were fogging up again and he realized he was very near to passing out. He needed to move now or he very well may die that night. He rolled to his knees and had to catch his breath at the sudden movement. "I-if you m-mean it." He stared at the ground, the earth shifted beneath his gloved-hands and he hoped it could stop long enough to get up. "I c-could def-d-" He furrowed his brow and glared at the stupid earth. "Def-defin-" What was that word? "I could use a-a warm h-house."

Huh, his hands appeared to be stuck to the ground. That was annoying. He wished he could just fly away from the earth and- and- well. Connor swayed to the side heavily. When did he stand up?

"I've got you." The woman - Kara, her name was Kara - wrapped one of his arms over her shoulders. "Come on. One step in front of the other. That's it." Her voice grew more quiet, next words directed to herself more than him. "I'll call Luther when we're inside that cafe up there. He'll help."

Connor startled as he was pushed into a seat. Oh. They were inside. When did that happen?

Kara settled across from him and pulled a phone from her pocket. Connor fixed his eyes on her, watching her dial a number and press the device to her ear. Her lips moved but no sound came out. Connor wasn't shivering anymore. Wait. Bad bad bad bad bad he needed to shiver to live. He grabbed at his hands and lifted them to his eyes. His fingers were shaking but he couldn't feel his fingers.

He tried to ask, opened his mouth but no words came out. Why couldn't he feel his hands? Why was Kara pretending to talk? Oh. The room had shifted again. Kara was holding his hands; the phone was on the table with a call flashing on the screen. Pressure on his hands. He squeezed his fingers tighter and tried to ask ask ask why aren't they why.

Kara put her hand over his mouth and kept shaking her head.

Oh. Maybe his mouth was working. Maybe his ears weren't. He nodded and bit his tongue.

He woke when someone picked him up. They were massive and Connor felt safe in their arms. Safety. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts, he didn't know what safety was. Only running and running and Cole cole cole cOLE. He panicked.

"Cole?" He slurred out. There was a bitter flavor on his tongue and he noted the red red red redredred spotting his chest. Oh. Right. He'd bitten his tongue yesterday.

Yesterday?

"Not Cole." A deep voice rumbled through his body, coming from whoever held him. "I am Luther. You are safe now, Connor."

Connor was hot. He was hot hot hot fire burning scratching his elbows. Connor whimpered and rolled below the weight of - bodies piled high - blankets. Connor was hotot hhot. He was too weak to push the blankets away. "I'm hot." He whined. "Help help." The words began to run together. "Helphelhot hot helpme - I'm hot. Can't breathe."

A cool touch soothed him and he stilled. "Shh, Connor." They hushed him.

Connor was cold. He was cold cold cold ice creeping in and numb numbing. Connor whined and clutched at the - body, Cole Cole was cold - blankets. Connor was coldold colld. He was too weak to pull the blanket closer. "I'm cold." He whimpered. "Help help." The words began to run together. "Helphelcold cold helpme - I'm cold. Can't feel."

A warm hand soothed him and he stilled. "Hush now, Connor." They shushed him.

Connor was nothing. He was floating, limbo. A laugh echoed to his left. Children played on his chest but he couldn't feel them. Connor! They sang in triumph. Connor wake up Connor and runrun RUN away ConnoR run. He was too weak to move to run rununrun. "I can't." He whispered. The voices left his chest and away away no don't leave me. "Help." Connor cried. "No don't leave - come back. I can't, I."

A gentle touch pressed against his temple and he stilled. He could feel. "Connor." They sighed, sorrowful and real. "Connor, I'm here."

Connor woke in a small single bed. A bottle of water sat beside him and a chair with blankets spilled on the floor hinted at whoever cared for him. He struggled to sit up. His body was weak and he knew he was dehydrated. A glass was on the bedside table to his left. He shifted to his side and reached out his right hand to grab it, but halted when he saw the bandages on the skin.

He drew the hand up to his face and studied the gauze. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel a distinctive radiating soreness. What had happened?

Connor thought back to the last several days. After saving Cole, he'd returned to his bridge and fallen asleep and- and Kara (the woman whose house he was in) had saved his life. But nothing he had done should have harmed his hand to warrant the bandages.

He continued to stare at his hand, which was how Kara found him about an hour later. Connor looked her way and saw her gaze also locked on his bandaged hand. Her mouth twisted into an uncomfortable line.

"When I found you, you were huddled around your left hand, the right holding your knees close." Kara explained. "The right hand was exposed longer."

"Oh." Connor realized what had happened. "I was alternating hands, to keep one warm and one working. But I fell asleep." Connor looked at the bandaged hand and tried to move the fingers. "Do I have all my fingers?" He asked her. He could feel them, faintly below all the wrapping, but he remembered stories of phantom pains.

"Yes." Kara quickly reassured him. "You didn't lose any fingers. You had sufficient warmth for the most part. However, the very tips had no blood flow and we weren't able to save them." She looked away and stayed in the door frame.

"Huh." Connor rotated the hand and wondered how the lack of fingertips would affect him. "My whole hand is wrapped; did I lose everything?"

"No!" Kara stepped into the room, moving forward as if to comfort him with her presence. "Your three center fingers were affected. The pinkie and thumb remain completely whole." She settled in the chair beside him. "I'm glad I found you out there. The night was very cold when I did, but the temperature was supposed to continue dropping and I don't believe you would have made it through the night."

Connor nodded along with her words. He didn't fully remember his meeting with Kara. But what she said made a fair amount of sense. Post-rescuing Cole, he hadn't had a plan for the future. What little money he had left after the rescue wouldn't have lasted him very long. With the onset of the true winter in Detroit and his lack of preparations, he hadn't expected a pleasant time, or even a long one.

Kara continued speaking. "Luther met us in the coffee shop and carried you home. You've been unconscious and delirious for almost a week now, I'm glad to see you awake."

"Why didn't you take me to a hospital?" He asked. Connor preferred staying out of the hospital, considering his past and lack of funding. However, he would have thought finding a nearly-comatose man under a bridge warranted a little bit of panic and the dialing for 9-1-1.

"Well…" Kara rubbed the back of her neck. "I mentioned this to you previously, but I'm familiar with the homeless and wandering. Many don't want to be found and hospitals have a way of doing that." Connor watched her expression and saw the way she kept her eyes averted. Connor could recognize white lies - considering his history with dealers, he knew how to get good prices and when a dealer was trying to make extra. Subsequently, he realized Kara had avoided the hospital (and possible police) involvement for her and "Luther's" sakes in addition to what she told him.

Considering his own past, Connor wasn't inclined to hold it against her. Instead he nodded his head in gratitude and muttered a quick "thank you;" then went back to studying the bandaged fingers and wondering what would happen next. He decided to make his thoughts verbal to fill the silence. "How do we move forward from here? Now that you've helped me in my time of need, should I pay you back or-"

"Nope!" Kara stood. "Not for now, at least. At this moment, your only job is to recuperate. It took you a week to wake up and I'm not about to make you get up and start sweeping the house now that your eyes are open! I'll be back with some fresh soup and another glass of water. You need your energy." She gave him an obvious once-over. "Make that two bowls, you're very thin." With a last, determined smile, she turned and left the room.

Connor let his hand rest on the covers beside the other and stared up at the ceiling. Kara wanted him to let his thoughts take over, to do nothing and let the little children find him. He shivered.

Hey Connor. A hand tugged at his clothes and he tightened his eyes. If he didn't acknowledge them maybe, they'll leave him be. You know that's not how this works, Connor. The hand gripped tight and hauled a small body onto the bed beside him. I'll be with you forever, Connor.

He held his breath and turned his head away. Look at me, Connor.

"N-no." He refused. "I'm not going to look at you. I want to sleep. Leave me alone." A high-pitched giggle was the only response. The weight shifted and disappeared. He refused to look, knowing the child's tricks.

"I'm back with your- Oh." Kara had entered the room once more. Connor carefully opened his eyes again to find her. "I'm sorry, did you want to sleep, instead? I can leave these on the stand."

"N-no." Connor stuttered out again. "I'll eat now. C-can you stay? Please?"

Kara studied him carefully, but nodded regardless. "Of course."

Living with Kara was fulfilling. Her husband Luther was equally kind, if not utterly terrifying in how massive he was. Yet, behind their cheerful smiles and gentle encouragements, Connor could see an old heartbreak. Just below their skin was a shattered hope, an emptied room with a locked door. A pretty sign that spoke of Alice. And Connor wondered.

To repay the couple for all their help and to better understand his new limits and sensitivities, Connor helped around the house. He cleaned the rooms and learned how to cook from Kara when she was home. He stretched his hands and fingers and followed the therapy Kara had looked up and told him to accomplish. Anything that would lighten their burden, Connor wanted to do.

The couple had work hours which mostly opposed one another. Luther would work all day long to come home in time for Kara to leave for the night. Kara wouldn't return until very early in the morning, at which point Luther was up and preparing to leave.

Connor wouldn't say he was particularly capable at knowing or picking up social cues, considering his childhood and development. But from his general understanding, Luther and Kara had a very reasonable home. Neither appeared concerned regarding their income. In fact, they did anything they could do to help Connor get back on his feet. Why else, he wondered, would they work such long hours like their lives depended on it?

Well.

Perhaps it wasn't their own lives that depended on their work?

The mysterious door, locked and decorated held the secrets he wanted the answers to. Connor found himself returning to stand and stare at the door more and more as the weeks passed by.

Alice could only be their child - a child who they no longer possessed. Perhaps child protective services had deemed Kara and Luther incapable of caring for her and had taken her away? But the room they kept preserved seemed old. The door leading to Alice's room wasn't the entrance to a shrine they'd built. It must be the child's old room.

Poverty couldn't be why Alice was taken away.

Perhaps one or the other was a previous abuser of some substance?

But again, the overworking. The long days and late nights. The forced cheerfulness and longing looks towards the hall which held Alice's room. Surely, a couple trying to thrive would have therapy or a counselor or even a friend other than their work?

Kara hadn't been afraid to take him home (never mind his own inability to function). She hadn't been worried he was working with someone to catch helpful passers-by, or that he'd planned to mug her, or really anything. Kara had been entirely comfortable approaching a stranger near dusk and inviting him to her home.

Kara must have some type of self-defense training. Or she was armed. Or potentially worked in a career which required daily dealings with difficult men. A bar, perhaps?

But, if Kara and Luther were previous substance abusers, then working in such a place wouldn't do them any favors in winning their daughter back.

Connor thumped his head against the hallway wall. Every idea he had, he was able to reason out. He was stuck. He couldn't figure out the mystery behind the flowered Alice in a small child's handwriting.

Alice was as haunting to Luther and Kara as the posters which screamed Cole's name so many weeks ago.

It was inevitable that Kara would find Connor sitting in the hall outside Alice's room. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to solve the mystery and - while he sat there, he could at least pretend to know the answers.

It was getting late, nearing one in the morning. Luther had left for work already and Connor had thought Kara was already in bed - a rare day where she was off and Luther worked overnight to have the next day off.

Kara settled on the ground beside Connor and leaned back against the wall. Connor spared her a glance and saw her eyes were only for the door across the hall. He turned back to his silent vigil. If she wanted him away from the door, she would tell him

"The house is so quiet these days." Kara murmured and broke the silence. Her leg slid away from her loose arms and straightened before them both. "Alice…" She shivered and scooted closer to him. "Alice was- is." She corrected the slip. "She is an overactive little girl and I miss her."

Connor placed his hand, palm up on his leg, open and inviting in case she needed something to hold. Carefully Kara laid her own on his, not quite holding on, but there. Together they continued their silent watch over the door and the room locked behind it.

Time passed and Connor woke to Kara shifting beside him. Luther had returned from work. He met Connor's eyes and lifted Kara into his arms. He took one step away before taking a seat where Kara was before. He caressed her cheek and let her settle again. "We will find her, Kara. We will bring her home."

Connor had thought Kara was still asleep, but at Luther's promise, the woman wrapped other of her arms around him and squeezed. Connor did the same to his own hands.

Alice was missing, like Cole had been.

They'll find her.

Kara and Luther had a rare 24-hours off at the same time. Connor was pleased for them. So rarely did they have any time to spend together aside from in passing. He expected they'd spend the day reacquainting themselves, or off relaxing somewhere outside the house.

Instead, he was surprised to return from his morning work shift to find them waiting for him in the living room.

"Connor." Luther greeted and spread one arm out, gesturing for him to take a seat. Connor cast a look over to Kara who refused to look at him. She wrung a small pink hat in her hands. "We have information to give you. No doubt you've already figured most out yourself. In order to speed the process up, allow us to explain."

Kara straightened and cleared her throat. She kept her gaze fixed on the rumpled pink hat. Gently she smoothed the wrinkles out. "You're aware of our daughter, Alice." Connor nodded. They'd sat a silent vigil outside the missing child's room a few weeknights ago. "Alice isn't missing."

Connor gripped his hands. His left thumb smoothed circles into his right palm. She wasn't? He wanted to ask where she was, why were they always so sad if Alice wasn't missing? The words caught in his chest and his mouth opened and closed.

"Well. I mean to say that we know who took her." Kara continued.

Connor couldn't hold himself back. He surged forward and fell to his knees beside Kara. "Then- then why haven't you reported them to the police? They need to- you can find her and bring her home!"

Kara smiled, pained. She cradled the small hat and kept her head bowed down. "I wish it were that simple." Her voice turned to steel and she raised her eyes to meet his own. "She was taken specifically to prevent us from going to the police. We're being blackmailed."

Stunned, Connor shifted his weight to sit on his heels. He turned his head to look at Luther who also appeared pained. His eyes were fixed to the hat Kara loosely held. They were being blackmailed? For what reason could Luther and Kara possible have that warranted blackmail?

Luther rubbed Kara's shoulder. "We discovered information regarding an organization which has taken over large parts of our city. I'm sure you're aware of human trafficking?"

Connor stumbled to reply. "Uh. Yes. I-" He thought back to Cole, kidnapped and bound, drugged in a back room. He thought of the man who'd fallen for Connor's bait and taken him back to Cole. Connor remembered the other junkies without friends who would disappear and never return; and the younger girls he passed on his way to work. They were scared and tired, trying to survive. Back when he was still in the throes of his addiction, Connor was lucky enough to have a few friends to check in with. Many street rats didn't. It showed in their absences.

Connor knew what human trafficking was. He knew it ran rampant. He knew of the abuse victims suffered, the lack of rights, the inability to choose for oneself.

And Connor was curious, how could Luther and Kara be familiar with the life he knew? Kara was kind and loving and caring and Luther was strong and powerful and wise. They were two intelligent people who couldn't possibly be involved in a field so bereft of compassion. Yet, somehow they'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time and their child was taken in response.

"How can I help?"

"Help?" Kara finally looked up from where she had kept her gaze on the cloth. "You want to help us find her?"

"Of course." Connor didn't understand how she could be so surprised. "Aside from how much you've helped me live and find a new purpose, no one deserves to have their child taken from them."

Kara's voice had gained a layer of hope. Her shoulders were more relaxed and her eyes remained fixed on his own. "Connor, you have to realize if we tell you more than these minor details, they may find out and blackmail you as well! Even now, knowing what you do, they could find out and hurt you too!"

Before he could stop himself, considering the situation, Connor barked a tight laugh. What would these people even blackmail him with? He said as much aloud. "You misunderstand me, Kara. Other than you two, I have nothing. You found me beneath that bridge. I was ready to die, Kara. I wholly believed my purpose complete."

Aside from acknowledging how close he had been to not making it, they hadn't discussed how he was found. Half-frozen, starving, huddled and semi-conscious, Kara had recognized his need and gifted him with life and room. Now, she was gifting him with a new purpose.

Connor had been under no illusion that he could go back to barely getting by, like he had since his under-the-table job and before Cole. The escapade had drained all meager savings, his absence enough to warrant the job kicking him to the curb. That night would either have been one of, if not his last. This new purpose to help Kara and Luther rescue their daughter meant the time spent nursing him back to health was not a waste. He needed to pay them back.

Kara bowed her head, eyes shifting back down to the cloth in her lap. "Thank you, Connor."

"Of course." He replied. A child with a loving home and wonderful parents was stolen away, missing, being used against their parents. How could he possibly turn them away?

Later, after Kara had gone to bed, Connor and Luther settled at the kitchen table to determine the next plan of action.

"No, Luther." Connor shook his head at the second note on the list. "If you or Kara recommend me to anyone, they'll keep me in the same level of suspicion as you both. I need to find a way to enter the group from an outside route. We can't have them connecting us in any way for this to work."

"If this is your plan," Luther took the list back, "then we will need to remove a few more options. Also, you will need a place of your own."

"You're right, of course. We can't have them associating us together in any positive light. Outside of the Eden Club, are you aware of any organizations or important people I could connect with?"

Luther tapped the table in thought. "While cleaning one morning, I overheard Mr. Adronikov mention a 'Todd' needing a distractor again. Apparently their last bait was taken in for reckless driving and had enough past misdemeanors they are no longer suitable for the role."

"This Todd needs a… 'distractor?" Connor repeated back, questioning. "Do you know what this entails or who this 'Todd' is?"

Luther shook his head. "Aside from knowing the operation and the key players in the Eden Club, I'm afraid Kara and I have been kept in the dark quite well. I know very little of outside operations other than the fact that they are out there."

"Okay." Connor nodded decisively. "We'll use Todd as a lead. Until then, we need to find someone to take me in, temporarily, while I infiltrate. Do you… do you know anyone not involved who would be willing to take me in?"

Luther shook his head. "When Kara wakes, we'll ask her. She knows more people than I."

About six months later

Gavin hung up the phone. He looked to Fowler who was seated behind his desk rubbing his temples. "Alright, Reed. Your evidence lines up with everything and SWAT says they're willing to work with us. When do you want to run the sting?"

Gavin checked his notebook. "Honestly, Captain. I think we should hold off on the sting for a few more days. I don't want the main players on their toes when we get them. I want them so far back on their heels they have no chance of escape. If Captain Allen is willing to expend a few more teams, I have at least six more hotels where they run their businesses." Gavin placed the notes so they were facing Fowler and gestured at the man to read them. "The more units we brief and more rooms we set up, the better. I want as many of these people off the streets as possible."

"You're in charge Reed." Fowler nodded, returning the notebook. "You let me know when you want to debrief and Allen and I will have the teams ready."

"Thanks, Captain." Gavin stood up and left the office.

He'd been heading this investigation ever since the youngest of the three missing Tracey sisters from the missing person's case two years back showed up on the precinct's doorstep two months ago. The station had gone into a rushed investigation at first, Gavin was assigned and they'd asked the woman if she could explain the series of events of her kidnapping and escape.

Jennifer Tracey's memory was fuzzy and she explained she and her sisters had stayed in a constant drugged haze for most of their captivity.

"I wish I could tell you where they are but," she huffed a harsh breath out her nose. "I don't even know where I am right now - or how I got here. My memory is full of blurred shapes and harsh noises. I'd guess a club… I thought this was a dream but your faces are so clear, there's no way I'm dreaming." She'd trailed off and looked to the side. "At least I hope not."

"You're not dreaming." Gavin assured her. "But we don't know how you escaped or if they're still looking for you. We don't want to tip them off. I'm going to have you placed in the Witness Protection Program to keep you safe while we investigate your kidnapping and try to find your sisters."

And so, the search for the remaining Tracey sisters had begun. The public none-the-wiser about Jennifer Tracey's freedom. The trail of breadcrumbs had led to a higher-end hotel which catered to women selling themselves to the wealthy and middle-class consumers. Gavin's team had tailed these women returning to a safe house. They'd tailed them out to streets where they begged for pennies. And finally, they'd tailed them to their pimps and their pimps' bosses.

Now, Gavin was ready to wrap the operation up. With Fowler and the SWAT captain's blessing, Gavin hoped to reunite Jennifer Tracey with her two sisters Dana and Courtney. Gavin wasn't ready to have his name and face plastered across the news, not until he was sure every single bastard was behind bars.

"Hey baby." A man entered the room and approached wired hire-girl.

"Evening." She replied, and settled on the bed. "Can I have your name to verify? And do you have the money?"

"I'm Michael McDonough, darling. And I sure do. $200 for a roll in the hay and maybe a $50 for a little something extra." The man began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Okay, enter in room 306." Gavin radioed the SWAT waiting outside to arrest the man. "We have everything we need from him."

On screen, the team in their gear entered and pushed the man to the bed. "You have the right to remain silent…" they began to read his Miranda Right's to him, while a separate officer checked in with the girl.

Gavin rolled to a different monitor to see how the other teams were doing. So far so good.

"Alright team!" Gavin surveyed the exhausted group of officers and SWAT members. "The operation was a success and I have all of you to thank for the profession execution of the plan. Thank you for your hard work. You're all free to head out." The group heaved itself to its feet and low murmur of voices filled the room.

Gavin headed over to Person and Chen. "You two were handling the women we got out, they're all at the hospital. Right?"

"Yep." Tina knocked Gavin's shoulder. "And the two Tracey sisters were among them. They said they wanted to speak to the lead as soon as you were free. But you're trying to stay out of the limelight, right?"

"Yes. I want to make sure we have everything tied up before calling this finished."

"Good." Person cut in. "Because I think we have a long way to go."

"How do you mean?" Gavin looked at her pointedly.

"Well Dana Tracey said there was a bigger operation going on, but sealed her lips after. She said everything else was for you. So!" Person put her hands in the air in a what-can-you-do? "Looks like there's a long way to go before we can call this over."

Dana and Courtney Tracey had, apparently, almost escaped alongside Jennifer Tracey two months ago. But they'd been caught and moved to a separate location.

At first, all three sisters had been kept and worked in a club setting. None of them could name the club, which made Gavin's job difficult. But that's where they first were before they tried to escape. Jennifer had gotten free, as the youngest her sisters had done everything they could to keep her running.

"We were together the whole time - I don't think I could have left without knowing either of them weren't beside me." The oldest, Courtney admitted.

"How did you escape?" Gavin prompted.

"We ran. They- they almost caught us; but we got away." Dana replied.

Courtney corrected her and leaned forward. "They did catch us! The guard caught us."

"Who did?"

"I don't know what his name was." Courtney was apologetic in her answer. "His job is to watch us girls. He assisted in keeping us quiet and counted our numbers to make sure no one escaped. But he wasn't always at our club; when he finished with us he would say he had to 'make his rounds'. Check on all the girls."

Dana continued where Courtney left off. "From what I could gather, from a couple others, he'd keep the cops distracted when the club would move new girls in and get rid of the older girls. But." She bit her lip and looked over at Courtney. "He caught us but let us go."

"That sounds counter-intuitive to keeping the cops away." Gavin muttered, scratching a note down.

"I can't tell you why he let us go, just that he did. We were in the alley behind the club. He caught up to us and we knew our escape was over. But then he just stopped and looked at us. Like - I can't explain. His eyes were so soft. He didn't speak."

Courtney nodded along with her sister's words. "He threw his gun to us, not at us. Then slammed his head against the building."

"Uh." Gavin glanced at the one-way mirror.

"He did it to protect us!" Dana put her hands on the table and leaned across. Her eyes a little wild. "And to protect himself - I think he's working against them. I don't think he supports them. Why would he let us go, otherwise? If he didn't hurt himself, then they'd know he let us go. He has to have a motive!"

Gavin nodded and wrote Dana's theory down. "Okay. So the guard knocked himself out. How did you two get captured again?"

"Oh." Dana slumped back into her seat. "We got Jen to run ahead, told her to run and not to look back. But we hesitated by his body. We took too long."

The two sisters had acted as a distraction long enough for Jennifer to escape, but they'd been taken elsewhere. According to Courtney, they'd done what they could with the gun tossed their way. It was loaded and ready, but neither of the sisters had shot a gun before. They also hadn't wanted to kill anyone, regardless of the circumstances.

"We didn't see the guard again. I hope he wasn't found out. I hope it's just that we were moved outside of his turf." Courtney sighed. "And before you ask, no we don't know what he looked like. He kept his face hidden."

Gavin wrapped up the interrogation soon after. He piled the sisters off to Witness Protection to meet up with Jennifer again.

"Reed, I got a call for you!" The receptionist buzzed his phone.

"Send it through, David. Thanks." He hung up and then waited for the transfer to come through. "Detective Reed, Thirteenth Precinct. How can I help you?"

"Hello?" A small voice, masculine in tone, sounded back over the line.

"Yes, hello." Reed replied, wondering what the call was about. Aside from his continuing investigations on the trafficking case, he didn't have anything active enough to warrant a call.

"I- is this anonymous?" The kid asked, sounding nervous.

Reed straightened in his seat and payed them more attention. "Of course it can be, are you in a dangerous situation right now?"

"No." They replied. "I just, I have a tip for your current case."

He felt his brow furrow in confusion. His involvement was supposed to remain on the quiet end until they were one-hundred percent sure it was finished. "What case?" He asked, hoping they might have the wrong name.

"The kidnappings."

"Sir." Gavin tapped a key on his keyboard to awaken his monitor. "How did you come by this information?"

"I- if I told you then it wouldn't be anonymous but-" They sighed. "If I tell you who I am, can you promise not to tell my dad?"

"Why-?" Gavin bit his tongue. "Sure can, sir. What's your name?"

"I'm Cole. Cole Anderson."

Cole Anderson-. Oh. The kid had gone missing for a month and had shown up at the precinct half a year ago. Lieutenant Anderson had been forcefully suspended for the entire month to keep him from forcing his way into any investigation. Although the rules said certain cases had to be kept under wraps, it wasn't uncommon for officers to mention bits and pieces while at home. Even with the Lieutenant focused on a different case, Gavin supposed he was probably keeping tabs on his own investigations.

If Cole's disappearance had to do with Gavin's investigation… "I can see why you would want to keep this anonymous. Sure can do, kiddo."

"I have information for your case and- and I'm glad you're not stopping with the operation here. Dad said a lot of officers would take their honors and be done with it." High praise from the Lieutenant, considering the man's own accomplishments. "What Dad doesn't know is that was where I was, when I disappeared."

"I'm listening." Gavin had hooked an audio recorder to his line and was typing notes on his computer.

"Well, since Mom died in the crash, Dad was always grieving and I, I guess was trying to get his attention? Anyway, I started dealing on the streets."

"You…" Gavin trailed off. He thought for a minute and realized where this was going. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the evidence that went missing from those busts last year?"

"The missing drugs, you mean?" Cole laughed on the other line. "You can add that to the list of crimes, Detective. I stole drugs from the evidence room on more than one occasion, yes."

"Well shit." That was ballsy as fuck. Plus, the kid had been successful which meant their internal security was absolutely awful.

"Then I went out on the streets I knew you'd deemed cleared and kept selling it all. I developed quite the following, you know. They'd say I wouldn't last. Word on the street was I was too cheap, there wasn't a way I'd be able to sustain a business selling with such low prices… they weren't wrong, you know? I wasn't planning on sticking around on the streets for long. I just wanted Dad to… well that doesn't matter anymore." Cole sucked in a deep breath and let the air back out raggedly.

Gavin had to release his grip on the pen he was holding. He'd known Ellie Anderson's death had messed Hank up, but to have made Cole feel so unwanted… It really wasn't Gavin's place to judge but still, hot damn.

"I'm back." His voice wavered, an almost sarcastic lilt to it. "Raise the banner high and fucking clap your hands because I'm back." Cole's voice was tearing on the other line and Gavin wished he could be more help than just another coworker of the kid's father.

"Sorry." The laugh that followed was hollow. "I didn't mean to throw that at you, you just want the tip."

"No, no kid. You need to let this out, I'm no therapist, but I get it. All those feelings are pent up. I told you I wouldn't tell anyone, it's anonymous. Remember?"

"Right. Right, okay. Well…"

"Here. Breathe with me." Gavin took in exaggeratedly large breaths and spoke alongside. "In. Out. In. There you go, out."

"Well." Once he'd calmed down on the other line, Cole continued. "One night, I was heading back to the apartment I've been living in since before Mom passed. I was coming back from getting groceries. I think it was just past sunset, so maybe six-thirty? Anyway, a large man grabbed me from behind and he- he- he-" Cole started hiccupping.

"Hey, hey. It's okay you don't need to continue. Only what you feel comfortable saying. You don't need to live through it all." Gavin soothed. Inwardly, he thought he might know what happened and if he was right… Gavin didn't want to think about this right now.

Cole collected himself enough to keep going, assuring Gavin he wanted to continue. "Then after, after he did that he took me away and put me in a room. It was a small house and it seemed to be temporary holding room. Loads of different people came in and out over the next few weeks. I- well he visited a few more times. But mostly just other tramps, kids like me. They were all dirty, girls and boys, most were my age. There were loads younger and a bunch older too."

Fuck.

"I tried to get out a few times, but they didn't give me enough to eat to hold my strength. I was always so weak. And when they did feed me, they kept putting drugs in the food. I couldn't always tell where I was." Yep, that lined up with the Tracey sisters' story.

"One night, I was by myself while they were having another party and he was there. It- it broke my heart. I recognized him."

"Who Cole? Who was there?" Cole recognized another victim?

"I didn't remember his name at first, just he was one of my old customers from the very beginning. He'd gone clean last I heard. I didn't expect to see him and, seeing him there… Anyway, I spoke to him and he started chanting 'for you, Cole, for you for you' and I was still a little hazy and didn't quite understand. But then he popped off his bindings like he did it all the time and checked the windows." Cole laughed, a small sense of wonder lifting his voice and mood.

"He knew exactly where the rusted weak spot was and knocked the bars out. He got me out, Detective. And he was homeless!" Cole's voice rose in indignation at the last word. "He'd gone clean, was still living on the streets and gave me his blanket. He saved my life, gave it back to me and reassured me that Dad wouldn't be angry. He told me to live fully." Cole sobbed on the other line. "He rescued me and I left him behind in the snow and I don't know, he might be dead."

Gavin didn't know what to say to comfort the boy. So he didn't say anything.

"Before I came into the station, he gave me a piece of paper with his face on it. He said he saw what happened. That he was there that night. He gave me this sketch and told me, if I ever wanted to press charges, that I was allowed. I still have that sketch and that, that's my tip."

Oh fuck, oh hell. Oh fuck. "Cole." Gavin spoke quietly and clearly. "You said you still have that; do you mind if I send a civilian by to pick it up? No one your dad would recognize."

"Yes. You can have it. I don't want to look at his face anymore."

"And, Cole?" Gavin hesitated to ask, but he needed all the information he could get. "Did the guy who helped you, did he mention what his name was?"

"His name was Connor."

Gavin was sitting in one of the small conference rooms, reviewing the board of evidence and testimonials when the door buzzed his civilian consultant, North Llewelyn, in. "Ah. Ms. Llewelyn." He stood to greet her. "I'm glad you were able to come in."

"I'm happy to help, Detective Reed." She replied. "Officer Wilson dialed me to let me know you weren't completely finished with the trafficking busts." She grabbed his notebook with carefully written questions and theories. "You think there's a larger operation behind the scenes?"

"Yeah." Gavin rubbed a hand through his hair and settled back into his recently-vacated seat. "I interviewed the two Tracey sisters, and they were able to piece together a time line from their initial kidnapping to when we came and found them. Apparently there's an entire network hiding in the cracks of our city."

"That's terrible news." North settled on the seat across the table from him. "What's the plan of action, then? You wouldn't have called me in to help again so soon, unless you already had a big lead."

"I do have a big lead." Gavin tapped the table twice and then pushed himself up and away. "An anonymous tip sent in a rough sketch of a person involved in the background."

"Anonymous?" North scoffed. "Come off it, you know as well as I do, after the big bust you pulled last week, all the tips are going to be vulture-reporters trying to get a scoop. What makes this one believable?"

He plucked the sketch from the board and turned back to her. "I happen to know the tipper. They were missing a few months back and, apparently were kidnapped by the very people we're hunting."

"Oh?" She leaned forward. "And how did they manage to escape our big, highly-organized criminal group?"

"According to my source, they had an unplanned outside helper bust them out." He settled back in his seat, but didn't turn the paper around yet. "And this 'helper' gave them this evidence and urged them to place charges, but 'only if you want to'." Gavin placed the sketch on the table and pushed it across to North.

She let out a low-whistle. "Looks like your regular brand of street thug to me." She picked the paper up. Her eyes flicked up to Gavin's, "and you said this source was gifted the sketch as a sign of - what - goodwill?"

"I have no fucking clue, to be entirely truthful. John Doe over there was sketched nicely enough that if I find him, I wouldn't need to line him up for anyone. Facial recognition could do the job well enough. But our mysterious outside assistance? I only have a name: Connor."

"Hm," North tapped her nails against her lips. "You said this tipper was kidnapped and then helped by this Connor… the anonymous source wouldn't happen to be Lieutenant Anderson's son ah; Cole was it?"

Gavin plastered his finger against his own mouth and cast a sidelong look at the room's security camera. "Shut up, North!"

"What? I figured it out, now you don't have to keep using long, wordy language and just use his name."

"How the hell are you a licensed police consultant?" Gavin dramatically smacked himself in the face. "He tipped anonymously because he doesn't want the Lieutenant to know. Can you imagine if Hank found out how involved his son is, how much more protective and crazy he'd be? He already was temporarily suspended for forced time off. I can't have him going psycho. The kid kept quiet for a reason, and I get it."

North had gone silent for his scolding. She sighed and her shoulders slumped. "I get it too, don't get me wrong. I won't tell Anderson, don't worry. Now," she flipped the sketch over. "Maybe I can figure out who sketched this or maybe a friend can. This is well-done and usually artists will initial their work."

"For a crime sketch?" Gavin laughed. "I wasn't able to find anything. Who initials damning evidence? That's just dumb."

"Well maybe they didn't…" She trailed off, her face was making a series of expressions that kept changing too quickly for Gavin to read. "No fucking way."

"What?"

"I can't believe this!" She stood as if she'd been injected with adrenaline. Well, she may have been. "I know this signature!"

"What? There's a signature?" Gavin almost jumped across the table to grab the paper. "Don't just stand there, who is that's got your shirt on the wall?"

North stopped and gave him a weird look. "What the hell was that saying, Gavin?"

"What-? I-" He spluttered. "No- fucking nothing! It doesn't matter. Who is the artist?"

North's eyebrows waggled. "This sketch was done by Markus Manfred." She dropped that bombshell in Gavin's lap.

"The son of the artist, Carl Manfred?" Gavin gasped out. What the actual hell. "How did he get mixed up in this?"

North frowned. "I don't know, but I can set up a meeting with him to check in."

"Yes, that would be appropriate. You can go ahead and get on that, I'll add the update to my evidence."

Gavin pulled his car to the side of the road in the second-fanciest neighborhood he'd ever seen (his brother was Elijah-fucking-Kamski, no one compared to that asshole). The address Manfred had agreed to meet them at was a veritable mansion and Gavin supposed he was the least well-dressed of the lot; Chen wore her uniform and North wore a nice blouse and pants (though she had the most leeway given her apparent familiarity with the artist). Gavin wasn't going to be cowed out of his leather jacket.

They walked up to the doors and allowed Ms. Llewelyn to address the door. "North Llewelyn with two official guests: Detective Gavin Reed and Officer Tina Chen. We have an appointment." She stated to the door; a light blue light beamed across their forms quickly.

"Welcome back North. Welcome Detective Reed and Officer Chen." A pleasant male voice greeted them. The door unlocked and swung open. "Markus is waiting in the main sitting room."

"Thank you, Sam." North replied politely. The three entered the house and turned to the right. Behind them the door swung shut again.

Elijah and his fucking security system empire.

In the sitting room, Mr. Manfred rose to greet them. "Hello, welcome detectives. North, it is good to see you again. Can I offer anyone a drink? No? Alright then, please take a seat. Am I understanding correctly that a piece of mine can assist you all in a case?"

"That would be correct." Gavin nodded. "Mr. Manfred–"

"Please." He chuckled. "Call me Markus. Mr. Manfred is my father."

"–Markus. During our investigation, we came upon a sketch we believe to be of our main suspect. According to the previous holder of the sketch, the paper was handed to them as evidence in another case. We are trying to track the informant down as they may be able to help us find the suspect."

"I see. You want me to tell you if I can remember who the sketch was for? I'll see if I can remember." He gave a half-smile. "You must understand; I have many sketch commissions come through; they run together."

"Of course." Gavin nodded. "Please look at the photo."

"Anything I can do to help." Gavin handed the paper over. Markus unfolded it and began to study the strokes. His eyes widened after a few minutes and he looked up sharply towards North. "Actually, I believe I remember this man very well."

"Oh?" Gavin leaned forward. Tina prepared her pen.

"Yes. I was in the Caribou Coffee, the one off Fawn St? I was waiting for my friends," he gestured to North. "North, Simon and Josh to meet with me for a get-together when a very disheveled man sat asked to sit across from me. I was very confused at first. But then he said he knew who I was and I thought him to be a fan." He huffed a breath. "You see, I was still starting out; there were odd reporters who would show up occasionally to interrogate me on my relationship with my father and to make digs at my talent." Markus rolled his eyes. "Then he mentioned he wanted a sketch and, well, I was rather rude to him. North, you may remember." He turned to her, "I complained over the chat that I was never going to be early again, as you all are never on time."

North nodded her head. "Yes. Although I believe you meant 'were never on time'."

"Ah no, you're still never on time."

She gave the officers a side look. "Please Markus, not in front of my associates." The two chuckled lightly.

"I'm sorry, I digress. I told the man to enter my contest; if he won he could get a free sketch done by me. He told me 'no', which surprised me. He told me he would pay, but he wasn't leaving because he needed the sketch. He then described this man." Markus gestured to the image. "I did my best in the limited time. After I finished, he thanked me and left. That's all."

"I see." Gavin glanced to Tina. She nodded. "Could you please describe the man for us?"

"Here." Markus grabbed a sketch pad. "I can do you one better. If you don't mind waiting…" He trailed off and began to lightly sketch a profile. "It has been awhile; I don't particularly remember what he looked like. And he was wearing very concealing clothes. However, his hair was a light brown, like he spent every day outside."

Markus handed the paper to Gavin and continued to speak. "And, well, as I mentioned before… he was scruffy. I think he may have been living on the streets. A full beard, covered the lower half of his face. He held himself very carefully, as if he was hiding. I definitely judged his appearance; I wanted him gone more than I wanted to help him." Markus frowned. "I really wasn't very nice, and now you tell me the profile I gave him could have helped better if I had gotten over myself enough to do as he asked."

"Don't start brooding, Markus." North nudged him. "No one could have known how important this was. And you said it yourself, the man looked weird. I'm surprised you even let him sit down."

Markus' face grew thoughtful. "Actually. I think- I think he gave me his first name? He was polite, that's why I was confused. But- damn." He rubbed his head. "I'm sorry, I don't remember his name."

"Does the name 'Connor' sound familiar to you?" Gavin offered.

Markus lit up in recognition. "Oh, absolutely! That was his name. No last name, I'm afraid. But he offered his name in greeting."

With the name confirmed, Gavin and Tina stood. "Thank you Markus, you have given us more than we could have hoped. Thank you for all of your help. If any other information does come to you, please swing by the precinct at your convenience." They shook hands. "Please," Gavin looked Markus in the eyes. "This investigation doesn't need to be spread to the news. The less coverage I get, the better."

"Of course, Detective. I won't be revealing anything." North led the way out.

On the ride back to the precinct, the car was silent. They had a lot to think about.

Gavin stood before the evidence board. According to everything they've gained in the last two days, the trail was still hot. The three month bust Gavin had worked on and Captain Allen had run was a huge success and the city was busy applauding the police force's success. News people continued to wait outside and badger officers for the lead on the case. Everyone wanted to pat him on the back and believe the streets were safe. The bad guys were caught and the victims saved.

But this board with 'Connor' and Cole's kidnapper's sketches pinned up. This board held the three Traci sisters' experiences and a path to more.

Gavin couldn't leave it be.

By all accounts, Gavin should leave it for another detective to pick up. He was exhausted from the long nights and early mornings. His cats were upset with the lack of attention. His clothes were either in the wash or on him. He hadn't relaxed in months.

If Gavin did as his gut and his brain was urging him, he wouldn't be relaxing for a while longer.

Gavin brushed a hand through his hair, leaving tufts askew and out of place.

There were too many loose ends left untied. According to the Tracey sisters, there were many more victims than those rescued. Gavin couldn't stop now.

Gavin knocked on Fowler's door, entering when the Captain called out to do so. "What brings you in today, Reed?" Fowler greeted him.

"Captain." Gavin paused. He looked at the piles of paperwork on Fowler's desk. He recognized a few of the pictures as the victims he'd help escort out of the hotel. "I've received new leads on the investigation. I have reason to believe we barely touched the tip of the iceberg."

Fowler pushed the paper he was reading aside. "New leads? Reed, I was under the impression you were working on your report, not investigating." Fowler's voice was dry. He stretched his back and leaned against the armrest on one side.

"Yes sir. Well, you see… While I was speaking with Courtney and Dana Tracey they explained to me what happened after Jennifer reached us. According to them, they were in the process of escaping when a guard they were familiar with stopped them. They urged Jennifer Tracey to continue escaping. The guard didn't recapture them, rather gave them his weapon and proceeded to knock himself out. Which leads me to believe that either there is more going on behind the scenes, or he recognized them as the missing Tracey sisters and wanted to help."

Fowler leaned forward. Elbows placed on the desk and fingers steepled. "Go on, Detective."

"They escaped from a club we don't know the location of which is involved in a larger human trafficking operation. I am thinking the sisters were transferred to avoid further suspicion. Shortly after, I received a tip from an anonymous source who had a run-in with a similar organized group. A citizen who saw the news and provided us with very useful information. Sir." Gavin handed the sketch of the burly angry man. Gavin proceeded to explain Cole's capture and rescue and the unknown 'Connor' who Markus had gone ahead and sketched for them from memory.

"After looking at this evidence I've come to the conclusion that we need to go undercover at this club the Tracey sisters were held at and we need to determine how deep this trafficking operation runs. Are they importing from out-of-state? Does their reach go further than that? According to the sisters they have a large enough operation and enough staff involved that there must be a relatively high turnover for grunts."

"So you intend to be the undercover agent, Detective?" Fowler inquired.

Gavin was ready for this. "Of course. You can't take this from me, Captain. I know the most information regarding the operation. If you put a new detective on the case, yes we'll have fresh eyes, but they will have to pick up speed whereas I'm already on board. A new detective will take time to figure out all the points and-" He paused at the amusement making Fowler's eyes crinkle. "And you don't intend to stop me, do you?"

"No Detective." Fowler gestured for Gavin to take a seat. "All of your points are excellent. But the most important one is the possibility of the enormity of the situation. Be reassured I don't intend to take the case from you. What I am worried about is how big this may turn out to be."

"Captain." Gavin leaned forward in earnestness. "If the Feds have to get involved at some point, then I will welcome them with open arms. I already dealt with Captain Allen from SWAT. Dealing with other departments isn't the issue right now. The issue is finding every single one of these mother fuckers and putting them behind bars."

"Agreed." Fowler nodded. "As long as you understand the steps we will have to take to accomplish the task, that's all I ask. And Reed, I'll need a full plan detailed for the operation prior to any actual steps. You'll need a handler and a code and an alias. Once you go deep enough and determine the scale the organization is at you let me know and we'll call in the Feds."

Gavin stood up and straightened his jacket. "Absolutely, Captain. Thanks for listening. I'll get right to it."

I am cross-posting fanfics from my AO3 (also Kangarooney) since I have been neglecting this account recently.

I do not own Detroit: Become Human nor am I attempting to make profit off this story.

This story will be updated weekly on Saturdays. The next update will be April 10, 2021. The story is complete.