Chapter 12: So Much Love, Lindsay
Gus looked down at the letter from Lindsay with a smile, her friend's infectious excitement practically jumping off the page.
Dear Gus,
We just had the best case. I know, I am not supposed to get happy about some guy getting burned, Danny has already been teasing me about that, but it was just amazing. I am sad that Davi Santos died, he was one of the greatest drivers of all time. How come you never told me Mac was a motor head too? It was pretty neat taking the cars apart and getting to see how everything goes together so perfectly. I totally agree with Adam that your practically need an engineering degree to drive one, though Mac doesn't have one and he got to take a lap, lucky duck!
Anyway, I was actually writing you to thank you again for your generous invitation for us to take a Messer family vacation for Mardi Gras and for patiently explaining to my lump of a husband all the family things that go on during Carnival. For a guy who works with science, he certainly believes practically everything he sees on TV, oh well, at least he stopped calling me Montana as much.
Speaking of cowboys, did you talk to Flack or something, because he had an actual smile on his face the other day and didn't clench his jaw once when I was talking about you. I hope you did. Just like I hope you two would get your acts together and get back together again, just remember when you do to block the door in the supply closet because I can tell you for a fact how angry Mac gets when you don't do that and he walks in...
But back to my thank you, I do appreciate the offer and while we are planning a family getaway, it won't happen until late Spring. I am all for a girl's weekend if you stay a couple of extra weeks at the end for fun, not that I don't want you back in New York, but Stella and I were just chatting about how we needed to have a girl's trip. Miss you!
I should let you go, I am sure another case will come in any second now and it will probably be boring.
So Much Love,
Lindsay
Gus shook her head, fully realizing how much she missed her friend, her family, really. A girl's weekend sounded like fun, but Gus wasn't sure she really wanted to extend her stay in New Orleans even if for her best friends.
She also tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach over hearing that Don had been in better spirits. She had, in fact, called him after her show down with Gage and even though it hadn't been a long or deep conversation, it was the most deliciously ordinary conversation. It didn't hurt that Don had rung off with a quick 'love you, bye' as he headed out to a call.
She was trying to not read too much into it, it could have just been reflex, but she wasn't going to discount whatever she could get from him. She loved him too much to let him go and she was determined to not let anything get in her way.
She let this thought bolster her as she stared up at the modest farmhouse in the middle of Ville Platte, willing herself to get out of the car and knock on the Doucet's front door.
Gus immediately lost her nerve the second the elderly woman shuffled the door, the resemblance to her son obvious in her features. "Can I help you?" the woman asked, though Gus had to try hard to make out what she said through her thick Cajun accent.
"Mrs. Doucet?"
"Well, I suppose that's my name, though I think of Ronnie's mother every time someone calls me that, god rest her soul, call me Mary. You ain't selling something are you?" the woman looked Gus over carefully, like she was trying to remember where she knew her from.
"No, not at all ma'am. I actually was wondering if we could talk..." Gus trailed off, losing her gumption by the second. Maybe banishing ghosts wasn't such a good idea, maybe it was just courting trouble, dragging up too much.
"Well the things is," she started, "I was, your son was...I went to Loyola New Orleans," she finally spit out, thinking about running back to her Jeep.
Mary took in the haunted young woman on her doorstep, wondering how she knew her bad seed son, God rest his soul. She threw open her door and stepped back, "Good Lord, child, where are my manners, get in here and have some tea!"
Gus stepped over the threshold with a heavy heart, made heavier when she took in the worn but well-cared for house, the walls covered with family photographs.
"Sit, please, make yourself comfortable. Did you drive up here from New Orleans? Of course you did, you must be parched, I'll be back though it may take me a minute, takes me longer to get around these days." Mary was true to her word, returning with a picture of tea, two glasses filled with ice and lemon wedges and what looked like homemade tarts on an antique tray.
"What on earth brings you up to Ville Platte?" Mary asked, handing her a glass filled with delicious iced tea. Gus took a nervous sip, not sure of how to begin or what she really wanted to say. "Gator got your tongue?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I just don't know where to begin," Gus said, feeling very much like a gator did have her tongue.
"Beginning is usually a good start," Mary replied, leaning back and waiting for Gus to come out with it.
"You see, your son, he was one of my professors, Sociology, Anthropology, I don't even remember it feels so long ago now and changed my major so many times before getting my psychology doctorate..." Gus trailed off, realizing she was bablbing.
"You're a psychologist. A psychologist is nothing to sniff at," Mary replied, her curiosity growing.
Gus shook her head, "I was, now I'm a detective with NYPD."
"Like the TV show, what on earth are you doing in Ville Platte then?" Mary took her own drink of tea with raised eyebrows.
"I am doing this exchange with the NOPD, trying to get cold cases in order, everything is still a mess since the flood."
"I imagine, we got hit worse with Rita and again with Ike, sometimes I think the Devil himself must be living in Evangeline Parish. But I doubt you came here to chat about natural disasters or the lack of Federal aid."
The older woman looked at Gus for a long moment before looking up at the clock, "and while I don't want to rush you, Ronnie gets dropped off from the Senior Center at 3, Memory Care, whatever that is.
Gus took a big breath, her words coming out in a big whoosh, "Iamwhyyoursonisdead."
"Pardon?" Mary said, taking in Gus' pallor and eyes filling with tears.
Gus chewed on her cheek, willing herself to keep it together. "I was with him, that night, on that PTSD study project. He, um, I don't know if you know this, but he kind of had a reputation..."
Mary rolled her eyes heavenward, "that is putting it nicely, dear, Remy came out of me handsy and it only got worse from there. He was my trial for sure."
Something in her tone made Gus continue a little less hesitantly. "He got a little too friendly with my roommate, Gwen, and when she fought back, he tried to get her expelled, so I kinda set myself up as bait to catch him in the act but things went sideways and..." Gus couldn't hold back the tears even after drawing blood from her cheek, but she knew she had to get this out before she completely fell apart in this stranger's living room.
"He broke into our room one night, and he tied us up and then he raped and beat up Gwen. I thought she was dead and I knew I was next. But, I had a gun, my dad had been NOPD and I had one of his off-duty pieces and I shot him. I killed your son and the university covered it up to make it look like rebels, but it was me," Gus confessed, tears flowing down her face.
She could only cry harder as Mary Doucet handed her a handkerchief, her motherly instincts on overdrive.
"Shush, now, child," Mary said, "I know we are not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but my son was rotten to the core. I don't know where that evil came from, Ronnie's side I suppose. I know all about his conquests, he tried bragging about them to his father and brothers on occasion, but they wouldn't have any of it. From the moment that doctor put him in my arms and he looked up at me with those coal black eyes, I knew something wasn't right with him."
Mary stopped, patting Gus' hand, dabbing at her eyes and taking a long drink of tea. "I tried to get the Parish priest to help, but I should have done more, sent him somewhere."
She looked square at Gus, her eyes steely, "I am sure you did what you had to do. While you may have pulled the trigger, but you are not responsible, dear. Remy was dead inside long before you met him.""
Gus looked at the older woman in disbelief. This is not what she had expected. she had expect the woman to get angry, to scream at her, to throw her out of the house while cocking a shotgun at her. "Ma'am, I shot your son and let someone else take the blame, how am I not responsible?"
"You aren't, his actions were. Is that really what you have been thinking that all these years?" Mary said, shaking her head, wondering just how many young women's lives her son had destroyed. "That is quite the thing to hold onto for a decade. Can't imagine it has done you any good."
"I've held on to a number of things a good bit longer than that," Gus quipped.
Mary gently cradled Gus' face in her calloused hands, "listen to me, dear, there is no use holding onto your pain, you have to let those ghosts go. You protected yourself, your friend! If you are asking for my forgiveness, there is no need. If you are trying to make things right, you go out there and be the best detective you can and protect young women from people like my son!"
Gus could only nod, dumbfounded and tearing up again.
"Stop with your crying, now, girl, or you'll have me a mess. Now if you don't mind, I need to get supper started and you should probably be heading back down to New Orleans or you'll hit that traffic in Baton Rogue," Mary said, leading her to the door.
"Thank you, Mrs. Doucet. It means more than you'll ever know that you even agreed to talk to me today," Gus said, starting to step out, stopped by Mary grabbing her forearm.
"Take care, dear, and try to find that happiness my son tried to steal," she said before firmly shutting the door.
Gus took the long way home after leaving the Doucet's, following the curves of the Mississippi all the way back to New Orleans, losing her Professor's ghost somewhere along the way and arriving back at the Brook's with a lighter heart.
Chapter 13: That's My Life, Stella
Billy looked at her with curiosity when she pulled up, dusty and worn from her day off trip to Ville Platte. "Sugar, when you get the day off, you are supposed to relax, not go traipsing through rice fields."
"Billy, leave me alone until I shower off or I won't buy you dinner."
"Treating me to dinner, what a turn of events, the NOPD finally remember they have to pay you? In that case, Commander's or August?"
Gus shook her head, pulling her hair out of its tie, "you keep at it, Billy and I will take you to Popeye's," she said, before giving her friend an impromptu squeeze and peck on the cheek.
"Where's this coming from, sugar?" Billy inquired, his friend had been a lot more reserved since she had been back.
"Just putting some things to rest, and remembering how much I love you," she replied, looking down at her shoes, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
Billy gave a cheerful laugh. "love you too, darling, but please go take a shower, you are covered in dirt and bugs. Oh and I put your mail on your bed, that curly-haired Goddess friend of yours sent you a letter. How you convinced a bunch of scientist to not use technology is beyond me."
Gus bounced up the stairs, wondering what Stella had to say.
Dear Gus,
It's been awhile, I can't believe it is already March, it seems like I was just bugging you about coming home for Christmas. We missed you. Thanks for the invitation to Mardi Gras, I just couldn't take time off, work has been nonstop lately, though Lindsay has decided we need a girl's weekend. Of course if I was married to Danny and was trying to juggle being a mom and a CSI, I would probably want some time away as well!
What am I saying? I want some time away as it is now, but, well I don't have to tell you how it goes. Though I am wondering how it is going with you. Mac said you two finally got a chance to talk and said you sounded like things were going pretty well. I am sure you will have everything whipped into shape in no time, but no, we are not lending you any lab rats no matter how many times you ask. Is it really that bad? The photos you sent were pretty scary, it is just hard to imagine that happening in the USA.
Of course it was hard to imagine why a barely legal kid would be wandering the streets of Manhattan covered in blood and brandishing an ax with his two friends and two girls dead in his hotel room but that just happened here, though we all had trouble believing it! I think Flack missed having you in the kid's interrogation, you know how he likes a crazy to normal decoder ring. Not that it would have helped much though, the kid wasn't crazy, he was tripping from LSD some girls slipped him and his friends. The midget wrestler may have been on the other side of crazy though.
Now that I write that out, it is no wonder I can't find a guy to go on more than a couple of dates with me that isn't crazy himself. Think I would have better luck down there? In case you're wondering, and I know you are, no the kid did not kill his friends or the girls. Apparently the girls were drug runners for a real piece of work and were trying to rob the trio who won a little high stakes bingo game to buy out of the life, but their boss had other ideas and killed them and the friends. Kid only escaped because he was tripping in the bathtub, of all the dumb luck.
I have to say, it was nice to see Flack acting a bit more like his old self on this case, don't suppose you know anything about that, do you? I hope you do, it would be nice for someone other than Lindsay and Danny to be happy and in love around here. Just let me get in a few more margarita nights first though, alright?
That's My Life!
Love from New York,
Stella
Gus read the letter, a smile spreading across her face. Stella was right, their jobs were crazy, even crazier when you wrote it down. She felt a little bad for her friend, though, Stella deserved love and happiness just as much as she did, if not more so. Deciding she had just enough time if she only took a quick shower, she pulled out some fresh stationary to compose a reply.
Dear Stella,
It was so great to hear from you, finally! I know, I am one to talk, I feel like I have played phone tag with the whole team lately, how can one hour of time difference mean so much?
I can't believe nobody took me up on my Mardi Gras invitation, but I know how hectic work gets. Billy, however, is beside himself thinking y'all don't trust his hosting abilities; that's just Billy being dramatic, which he is very good at. You let me know on that girl's weekend, say the word and it is on! Remember to pack your sport liver though.
Mac and I did catch up, finally, glad to hear he finally got back to Cozi's, I think it had been too long for him. All of us our bad about not taking time for ourselves, but I swear that man is the most pig-headed of them all! I am sure you are making sure he takes care of himself, I am so happy he has you in his life. I am glad you are in mine as well, I am realizing more and more every single day how important family is, and how much y'all are my family. Enough waxing poetic...
Yes I am working to whip things into shape here, though I am at a loss about how to do so. It is glaringly obvious how important a good team is, but even with that, the lab is as bad as it looks and then some. To say nothing of the incompetence and corruption. Evidence goes missing between points A and B all the time, chain of custody is something people laugh at and in the land of the 4 day work week, not a lot is getting processed. I never have been as intense as you, especially since I don't know my way around a lab, but I often wish I could channel you on getting things done around here. Now you probably won't come to visit because you are afraid I will put you to work the entire time. I wouldn't, not the entire time at least.
Yeah, that case sounds like one for the books, though it pales in comparison to some of the stuff around here. Add crazy (except we like to call it eccentric) to a lot of free-flowing alcohol and a big belief in spirits and voodoo, it would make your hair uncurl (see what I did there?)! It is sad about that guy's friends and the girls. I shudder to think at the choices some girls make, feeling like they don't have any other options. We have to make sure we help raise Lucy right!
Yes, I think you could clean up down here, you gorgeous and intelligent woman. Of course, I think you should clean up anywhere and any sane man who doesn't want you, might not actually be sane. So there.
I am not really sure what is happening with Flack and I. We've talked a couple of times and traded emails and I am working really hard on putting some ghosts to rest, but I still don't know where I stand with him. I worry that part of him will never get over Jess, and that maybe he loved her more than he ever did me. I wouldn't blame him, she didn't have a crazy decoder ring because she didn't know anything about crazy.
You can have all the margarita nights you want, promise! I gotta go, I have a dinner date, with a gay man and that is my life!
To New York With Love,
Gus
Chapter 14: Luck of the Irish (Reed & Flack)
Gus felt her phone buzz, grumbling as she looked at the crowd surrounding her, there was no way she could hear anything in this mess.
She knew it wasn't work, the one good thing about working inactive cases was that you didn't get called in on your days off, plus she was standing with her temporary boss a couple of blocks from his Irish Channel house.
Gus drew her phone out of her pocket to see who was calling her. It was Reed, who she hadn't talked to in far too long, in fact she didn't even think she had told him she was doing this LEEP.
"Hey, cuz," she shouted into the phone, hoping he could hear her.
"Gus, where are you, it's barely noon, why is it so loud?" Reed said, trying to figure out where his cousin was, but also wanting to get her to agree to help him. "I hate to call you, but I kind of need your help with a friend. He's in trouble but kind of cop shy."
Gus made a face, nope, she hadn't told him. "I would love to help you, Reed, but, I'm in New Orleans."
"On vacation?" a tinge of worry had crept into Reed's already anxious voice.
"Sort of, I am here on an assignment," she ducked so she didn't get hit with a bunch of carrots flying off the float.
Reed tried to figure out why some many people were screaming in the background, "what kind of assignment?"
"Working on cleaning up their cold cases, it's a mess, but right now I am at the St. Patrick's day parade. I would love to help you, but if you need something in New York, you better call Mac."
Reed groaned, "that is exactly what I was trying to avoid."
"Yeah, well I am trying to avoid being concussed by a root vegetable. Mac is only as scary as you let him be. If your friend is really in trouble, he should welcome any help he can get."
"Fine, I'll call him, but at some point when you aren't having things thrown at you, call me and tell me what is going on with you, please?"
Gus smiled, "I will, I promise, watch your back, Reed, love you!"
"Boyfriend back in New York?" Colston inquired as she hung up, handing her a cabbage he had plucked out of the air a nanosecond before it hit her.
"Quit digging, Colston, cousin, long story and thanks," she said, gesturing to the offending green orb.
"Not a problem, one more to add to the pile for the wife," he said, throwing it into the sack at his feet.
Gus made a face, "your wife actually cooks with the stuff you catch?"
Colston nodded, "she does, one year I caught a whole corned beef, frozen."
"That doesn't mean you should eat it," she shot back before walking out of range to call Mac and give him a heads up on Reed's incoming call.
Gus came walking back, pleased that Mac took the news fairly well, though he also sounded distracted. This time she didn't have time to duck before a potato struck her in the face. "Ow, crap!" she yelped.
"Need a beer, Broussard?" Colston asked her, pointing to the keg in the neutral ground behind them.
"It better not be green," she grumbled.
Gus finally found herself back Uptown many hours later, after being filled with what she had to admit was delicious 'float stew' from Colston's wife, maybe a few too many Guinness and talking about her plans for last couple of months in New Orleans, wanting nothing more than a soak in the tub.
Gus stood over the tub as it filled with hot water and bubbles, debating ignoring the text message that just buzzed on her phone. Her curiosity inevitably won, she wanted to know what happened with Reed and his friend.
Sunshine, just got finished with a case and since you know I refuse to drink green beer on this high holy day, thought you might want to video chat, kind of miss your face. -Flack
Gus looked in the mirror over the tub, god no, she did not want to video chat. Clad in her towel, she realized was more than a little sunburned, her hair was frizzing in the steam of the bathroom, the potato had left its mark under her right eye and the beads she had just taken off had dyed her neck and chest green.
However, she really didn't want to miss an opportunity to reconnect with Don. Thank god Billy wasn't here to hear her debating, he would have freaked out and given her a full makeover before letting her get on the computer. Mind you in her current state it probably wouldn't hurt. She picked up the phone, a call would have to suffice.
"Flack," he answered curtly.
"Hey, it's me," she said, trying not to feel wounded at his tone.
"Hey, yourself, was hoping you were going to pop up on my computer, thought the call was dispatch again."
Gus tried to not breathe a sigh of relief, she still felt on eggshells around him. "Nope, just me. Hope you don't mind just the phone call, I am kind of in a state." She turned off the water, the bubbles piling high.
Don couldn't help but smile, only able to imagine what trouble Gus had gotten into in New Orleans on St. Patrick's Day. "Rough day?"
"Let's just say the luck of the Irish was not with me," Gus replied, piling her hair on top of her head.
"Obviously not, I'm up here," he teased.
"Don't be cute, Flack, it's not very, OW!" she exclaimed as she stepped into far too hot water.
Flack felt torn between bemusement and concern, "you alright, sunshine?"
"Yes, just very hot water on my sunburn, but I have to get this stupid green dye off," she grumbled.
He tried to make sense of what she was saying. "How did you get sunburned in March and do I even want to know why you are dyed green?"
"Parade, beads, same way I got my black eye, though that was from a potato," Gus tried to explain as she slid down into the bubbles.
Flack heard the rustling and telltale sloshing sounds, he gulped, wishing even more that she had taken him up on the video chat offer. "Hey, Gus?"
"Yeah?" Gus tried to figure out his change of tone, he probably was thinking she was an idiot.
"Are you in the tub?" He tried to ignore the fact that his words were slightly strangled by the mental image he now had of her, wet and soapy.
"Yes." Yep, he definitely thought she was an idiot, a taking a potato to the face idiot.
Flack made a small strangled noise, which Gus thought was him trying to not snicker. "Just don't drop the phone, I've feel like I've barely got to talk to you lately."
"I've had this phone for almost a year, Don, I am not a complete wreck, just most-crap!"
This time he did laugh, "you almost just dropped the phone, didn't you?"
"Shut it. So what was this case you just wrapped up, did it involve any leprechauns?" Gus was desperate to change the subject, feeling increasingly vulnerable talking to him naked and wet, despite having done so countless times before. It just magnified the distance that still existed between them.
Flack grinned again, feeling like his own pot of gold was on the other end of the line, he just didn't have the rainbow to get there. "Only one leprechaun actually, and I laid him out flat."
"You laid out a leprechaun?"
"He was in my way, stupid mascot in the parade and I was chasing a suspect and Danny couldn't keep up."
"Probably because you are half a foot taller than him, did you catch the suspect, you must have otherwise you wouldn't be calling."
"Yeah, me and some of the NYPD bagpipe guys cornered him. They were none too happy about having to fill out incident reports instead of their gullets, but what are you going to do?"
"Lay out a Leprechaun, apparently," Gus teased, enjoying the easy banter between them, hoping it could last.
"What have you been up to lately on your little break from the city?"
Judging by the slight change in his tone, Gus was guessing it couldn't. He must believe she had run away again and he still hadn't forgiven her for the last time. Perhaps they were a lost cause.
"It is hardly a vacation, Don, if anyone would actually take me up on coming to visit, I can show you what a shit show the NOPD is" She pinched herself for the anger in her voice, that clearly wasn't going to help things.
Flack's tone softened, he realized how she must have taken his words. "Hey now, I know it isn't, I just don't know what to call it. And I would love to take you up on your offer, but criminals just can't seem to take a break either. Everyone would like to take you up on your offer, a lot of people miss you, Broussard, me first in line."
"Offer is always available, lord knows Billy has too many guest bedrooms."
Flack wanted to ask what he would need his own guest bedroom for, but held back. "I'll keep that in mind."
He felt suddenly overwhelmed, missing her, wanting her back, still trying to deal with everything that had happened, not to mention being exhausted from the case. He was at a loss as to how to say everything he wanted to. "I should let you go, take care of that sunburn and whatever else. Talk to you later."
Gus' stomach plummeted as she tried to figure out how the conversation had veered off track. "Sure thing, Don, it was nice talking to you."
"You too, sunshine," he paused long enough that Gus to check to see if he had hung up before hearing, "and Gus, I really do miss you."
This time, the silence that followed was because he had hung up.
Chapter 15: Act Like Adults, Mac
Gus had just climbed into bed, feeling a little deflated from the end of her otherwise nice conversation with Flack when her email notification pinged. "Aren't I popular today?" she remarked, pulling up the email.
Gus,
Thanks for convincing Reed to call me, his friend was definitely in over his head. I won't go into all the details, but it did involve fake gold, a four-leaf clover and green beer. Only on St. Patrick's Day. I was also reminded that you and Reed are actual blood relatives. Stubborn, persistent, willful and strangely optimistic, blood relatives. It is a good thing though, most of the time. Especially when it makes the people around you better versions of themselves, something I think both of you are more adept at than you realize. Which is why I thought to write you. Reed convinced me to take a chance, and while I know he was talking about helping his friend (which I did, so thank you for having him call me), I also did with a woman I met at the deli. We had dinner tonight and it was nice. I don't know if it will go anywhere, but I wanted to let you know up front, as I know I didn't handle things well with Peyton and I wish you would have been up front with me about Don. Maybe we should try being a little more honest with each other in the future, act like adults, since we both are. Keep in touch, hope all is well, I am certain you are teaching them a thing or two and stop trying to get my team to come down there. Love, Mac
Gus couldn't help but smile at her uncle's news or gentle chiding. She also felt like maybe she should listen to her younger cousin and take more chances, like chancing getting her heart broken forever by being straight with Flack. Perhaps she should just act like it was a band-aid and face all the pain at once. Even if he turned her down, at least she would know and could move on with her life.
"Nice shiner," Colston remarked, waiting for Gus outside the trailer.
"Nice sunburn," Gus retorted, pointing to Colston's red dome, happy her burn had already faded to a golden brown.
Colston patted it gently, "yeah, it's what I get for not wearing a hat, happens every year, if not St. Patty's then French Quarter Fest."
Gus just looked at him, wondering what he was doing there, considering they had just talked about her plan for the rest of the time she was there. "I am getting the feeling this isn't a social call, sir," she said, opening the door to the trailer.
Colston stepped in, looking around in amazement once again at how she had transformed the endless towers. "As you know, we have a new Mayor."
"Thank god for that," Gus said, pulling her hair into a bun, ready to get to work.
"Indeed, anyway, he is all about cleaning up this city beyond just giving it a fresh coat of paint. He wants to overhaul the NOPD and he has a lot of good ideas on how to do so. One of the things he is keenly interested in setting up a cold case squad, another is a state of the art forensics center over at the new health sciences campus."
"Good, you need both, badly," Gus said, gesturing.
Colston nodded in agreement, but didn't say anything more right away, he was trying to test to waters. Gus just looked at him, moving around him to grab a box. Finally he gave up, "you want in?"
"In what, sir?" Gus said, pretty sure she knew what he was getting at, but wanting him to come out with it.
"Whoever is in charge of the new squad will need a great team under them, someone who could also work well with the forensics lab. Could be a great opportunity for you."
Gus stopped what she was doing, putting a case binder down forcefully but keeping her tone steady, "I am sure it would be sir, but I am pretty sure I belong in New York."
"Pretty sure isn't positive, just think about it, would you? You don't have to decide anything now, he doesn't even take office for a few weeks. Feel free to put some feelers back in New York, too, see if any of those lab rats of yours want a change of scenery. Real estate is a hell of a lot less expensive down here, might be enough to convince someone to move."
Thinking of what her mortgage bill would have been if she hadn't been insured to the hilt as well as knowing how pay check to pay check many of her friends had to live because of rent, she knew he wasn't out of line in reasoning, but she also knew how happy everyone seemed in New York. "I highly doubt I can convince anyone to move down here, but I'll humor you. Now if you'll humor me, I have a few binders with my name on them."
"Sure thing, keep up the good work, Broussard," Colston said, before disappearing back towards the justice complex.
"Might not be the worst thing ever," Chanda said later when Gus was telling her about her visit from Colston.
"Might not be the best either," Gus said, making notations on the spreadsheet she had open.
"You aren't married, you don't have kids, what is keeping you there? Cost of living is a hell of a lot cheaper down here and they are finally starting to pay us closer to what we are worth. New Mayor's planning on bumping that even more."
Gus turned, stretching, "it isn't about the money, Chanda. Yes, I know if you grew up in New Orleans you aren't ever supposed to want to leave, but that isn't the case for me. I don't have the whole mom and 'em thing going for me. Anyone I would call family is in New York, that is home for me now. I already tried to move back here once and it ended...poorly," she ended, about to turn back around.
"Oh I know all about the last time you were back here. My daddy knows McCay, he retired after that crazy summer, said you had run him ragged and his ass was getting too old for that crap."
"Ran him ragged, McCay spent most of his time sitting on a bar stool waiting for me to bring in the collars!" Gus protested.
Chanda laughed, "that sounds about right." She went back to her own stack of binders and spreadsheets, both working in silence for a while until her curiosity got the better of her. "Broussard?" she said, laughing as Gus jumped.
"Yeah?" Gus asked, barely looking up.
"You want to tell me about the hot guy you are hiding from in New York?"
Gus only briefly stopped typing, quickly retorting with, "why do you think there is a hot guy or that I am hiding?"
"Seriously, sugar? Come on now, I know you may not be part of your old Uptown crowd anymore, but you still have too much New Orleans blood running through your veins. Hence, he must be really hot to have you going back to New York. But you haven't had any visitors, so I know you must be hiding. Come out with it, tell Chanda your sad story, it will make you feel better."
Gus spun around in her chair to face her co-worker. "You are frighteningly perceptive, sure you aren't a detective?" Chanda just patiently waited. "Yes, he is crushingly and devastatingly handsome. But I am not hiding, we both just needed some time away from each other to work out some things. You don't want to hear my sad story, nor do we have that kind of time to rehash nearly five years of drama."
"Try me, short version is fine," Chanda pushed on, not only because she was wondering about all she had heard, but also because the other woman looked like she was fighting being haunted half the time.
"Katrina, forcibly evacuated, uncle with NYPD, got me job as psychologist, finally became cop. Hot partner becomes more than just a work partner, asks me to marry him, I freak out and come here, work my ass off but hate every second of it. I go back to New York, am too stubborn to admit I am wrong, hot partner finds other girl who is also a detective, she gets killed while we are working a case together but I am fine because I am wearing the vest of another detective I slept with the night before, hot partner goes off the deep end with drinking, I go off the deep end with anger and guilt, we go off the deep end together until I realize we both might drown, enter LEEP program and, as you said, me hiding here. That about cover it for you?" Gus said with a woos.
Chanda's eyes got wide, "whoa, that is a lot and somehow I feel like I am missing a bunch of information."
"Hundred of pages worth," Gus shot back, turning back to her computer.
"Humph," Chanda replied when Gus did not elaborate.
"Yeah well, I tried to tell you. Also, I don't feel better."
"Neither do I, now," Chanda grumbled.