Chapter Four

"Here."

Leah quietly thanked Jacob for the coffee. She wasn't particularly craving for the hospital brew (or anything, in that matter), but it was near four in the morning, and she was operating on almost twenty-four hours without sleep. She didn't have much of a choice.

She remained quiet as Jacob sat down next to her. Two hours had passed since the detectives arrived at the emergency room, and it didn't appear they would be leaving anytime soon. A prospect Leah wasn't looking forward to enduring, and it had nothing to do with that she was dead tired. Yes, she was exhausted, but—

She hated hospitals.

Then again, Leah mused as she took in the smell of the caffeinated drink, hospitals were inherently unpleasant. Except for expecting parents and their newborns, she supposed. The last time she had been inside a hospital was back in the summer when little Abel had been laid up for a few weeks. He was fine now, thank goodness. Just a happy, adorable baby with parents Leah hadn't even so much greeted since then.

They said time heals all wounds.

That was what they said.

The worst part of a hospital, besides the obvious, had to be the stench. The combination of bodily fluids, medicine, cleaning products, and death rivaled most crime scenes. And it never dissipated. There weren't enough candles, Febreeze or expensive strong-scented perfumes in the universe to get rid of it.

Leah thought she would be used to it by now, but she hadn't. It takes time, Jacob had told her countless times. He was at the point where the pungent aroma didn't faze him.

You'll get used to it.

She didn't think she ever would.

"You can go home," Jacob softly suggested, being his usual worrisome self. Typically, Leah would've called him out on it, reminding him for the umpteenth time that she wasn't some fumbling child who needed a mother hen. But this time, she bit her tongue. Jacob's presence was comforting, definitely needed, and welcomed.

Leah shook her head and took a sip of her coffee. It was utterly terrible, but she wasn't going to complain. She had far more pressing matters occupying her thoughts, like the woman currently in the ICU.

"The captain says a relief crew will be coming at the end of the hour," Jacob told her. Paul hadn't been too surprised when the detectives had told him of the news. He had a bad feeling about that car, he had told them.

"Hm."

"They'll keep us posted for…." Jacob trailed off, trying to find a comfortable position in a very uncomfortable plastic chair that was too small for him. The sofa against the side wall would have been a better alternative, but it was currently occupied by a mother and her three kids. "Any updates."

Jacob was clearly trying to get Leah to leave. She appreciated the concern, but she couldn't simply leave. It wouldn't be worth it. She would only worry over Tia throughout the entire ride to Evanston, and she would keep herself awake for the rest of the morning, wondering what the fuck had just happened. Not an ideal situation since she was supposed to be back at the station by ten in the morning, at the latest.

"No, I wanna get the updates myself."

Jacob sighed. "Leah…"

Leah put up a hand and shook her head. She knew what she was doing. All she wanted, needed was a concrete answer: was Tia going to survive and when Leah and Jacob could talk to her? Nothing else mattered at the moment.

"Leah."

She ignored her partner and took another sip of her coffee.

How could this have happened? What on earth was Tia doing? Where could she have been all this time? Why hadn't she called Leah like she said she would?

Leah placed the coffee on the small table next to her. "What the hell's going on here?"

It was a question she had been asking for the past two years.

"Won't know until she's conscious. Which, based on what the doc said, it ain't gonna be anytime soon." Jacob placed a hand on Leah's shoulder. "C'mon," he said, almost pleading. "You need the sleep."

Leah brushed off Jacob's hand. The only way she would leave this place without getting answers was if Jacob was daring enough to cause a scene by picking up and dragging her away. And even then, Leah would put up a damn good fight. "I spent four months looking for her," she said. "Four months. Looked everywhere, asked everyone… and nothing."

"And now, she's been found."

"Practically half-dead."

"But still alive."

A coma, the doctor said.

Prognosis was up in the air.

All they could do was wait.

"But she's still alive," Jacob told Leah after he finally coaxed her out of the hospital and into the car. It was about six in the morning, and despite their long night, the detectives were expected to be at the station sometime before ten.

"Half-dead."

"But still alive."

When Leah and Jacob entered the station later that morning, they were called into the captain's office. Fearing the worst, the detectives grabbed their notepads and pens and trudged to the office, where they would find Paul pacing around the office, constantly running a hand over his buzzcut – He was clearly stressed out, but he wasn't raging.

Leah would take it.

When asked of Tia's (no, Catalina's) status, Jacob told Paul what he had told Leah all last night. "Still alive," he said, glancing at Leah, who was struggling to keep her eyes open. She had slept the entire ride to the station, as expected for one who only had a couple of hours of sleep. "But you never know with a coma..."

Paul nodded and finally took a seat. He took a series of deep breaths, then clapped. "Alright, before we get started: is there anything, and I mean anything, I should know about?" He took another series of deep breaths, lifting shoulders and all. Leah hadn't seen this side of the captain since the aftermath of the Tunnel Raid. "Just remember: I can cover you for about ninety-five percent of possible possibilities, but you gotta be honest with me."

Leah cleared her throat and glanced at her partner; neither detective liked the direction the conversation was heading. They hadn't done anything wrong; they did what they were told: look for the license plate and call the damn ambulance. Tia (Catalina, damn it) was safe and sound in ICU.

"I hope you're not showing any favoritism," Jacob said, trying to lighten up the mood. Paul generally had a soft spot for sarcastic remarks, but the captain wasn't as amused this morning.

"I'd do this for anyone on my team," the captain maintained in a serious voice. He crossed his arms and gave the detectives an expectant look. "So?"

The office fell into silence.

None of the detectives had the initiative to say anything. The captain spoke up after some time passed, "Got a call from the DEA earlier this morning." He stopped to down some of his Monster, though the pick-me-up didn't stop him from taking a long, tired breath. Like the detectives, the captain hadn't received much sleep. And now, with the DEA involved, he probably wouldn't be able to get much of it for a while. "They asked about your source. Tia. Catalina Pereira. She's one of theirs."

Jacob sputtered. "The fuck?"

Leah brought a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry… What?" There wasn't anything else Leah could say. To say she was dumbfounded wouldn't be the tip of the iceberg. Sure, she had her suspicions, but that was all they were. Suspicions. Fuck – They weren't talking about Tia, the source, the hustler, Maria's righthand girl months before dropping off the face of the planet.

No, they were talking about Catalina Pereira.

A fed.

A DEA agent.

An undercover DEA agent.

"You've got to be joking," Jacob remarked, mirroring his partner's thoughts. He looked just as stunned by the news as she was. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Paul wished he was. The last thing the captain, the unit, and this investigation needed was another attempted murder of an undercover law enforcement officer, especially when it involved another agency. Especially when it was the feds. Paul turned to Leah. "Be honest with me, did you know?"

Leah remained tight-lipped as she rummaged through every memory she had with the woman. "It crossed my mind," she eventually admitted. She couldn't help but think she had missed something and, therefore, made the situation even worse. She couldn't help but think of Internal Affairs; she had dealt with them once before and would be perfectly satisfied to never interact with them again. "Had a hunch, but that was it."

Paul slowly nodded. "That was it," he repeated. He didn't appear to be upset, more forlorn than anything. This investigation was indeed a gift that kept on giving, and now, an unconscious agent was added to the equation. "Nothing seemed out of the ordinary? Nothing concerning?"

Leah shook her head, "She was just someone caught up in some mess," she said with a shrug. "I mean, I was taken aback how much she got along with Maria, being the other woman and all, but…."

"What did she say about that?"

"She claimed they saw eye to eye," Leah said. "It wasn't personal. Sounds crazy, but stranger things have happened." She folded her hands on her lap and dropped her gaze. "I just know it couldn't be me. I couldn't be friends with the woman my husband cheated with… but then again, Maria and Ricky seemed to have some sort of open marriage arrangement. She was messing with Sancho while she was still married to Ricky. While Ricky was still alive."

She wondered if Ricky had known or had his suspicions. Or knew Tia was simply using him for work? Or maybe she wasn't? Or perhaps she was, had been, but things got messy, and whatever she felt for Ricky was real? Ricky's death had hit Tia hard, whether she showed it or not.

"Sounds like a sister-wives-situation," Jacob said, speaking up for the first time in minutes. "Or a trap."

"In any case, the DEA wants some answers."

"Was she working undercover?" Jacob asked. The look on the captain's face gave away the answer. The detective leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, "They're gonna give us a hard time?"

"They wouldn't be doing their jobs if they weren't," Paul said, though he didn't seem too concerned. Then again, he actually got along with the DEA. Well, or at least, he was friendly with quite a few of the agency's bosses in the Chicago area. "But they are willing to cooperate within reason. We're gonna be working with a couple of their agents and get to the bottom of this... God, I hope she pulls through."

Paul wasn't specifically talking about Tia, herself, though Leah was sure he didn't want to hear of another deceased person connected to the investigation. No, he was more concerned about the blowback, particularly from the brass. Both from CPD and the DEA. Nothing to lose his job or sanity over; it wasn't like he had put the agent in the trunk and left her for dead.

"So, I assume we're the primaries?" Leah asked. She figured that was the real reason Paul wanted to talk to Leah and Jacob. "We're going to work with the DEA to find out what happened?"

Paul nodded. "Considering she was your source, yeah," he said. "This is your priority. Of course, keep an ear out for everything else, but we got an agent in a coma, and she's tied to quite a few of our subjects. Can't simply ignore that."

"What do you want us to do?"

"Your jobs, of course," Paul told Jacob. "The agents are going to be stopping by tomorrow. Just remember: they're allowed to have their secrets, and so can we."

Jacob looked at Leah, taken aback just as much as she was. Of course, the secrets-thing was a given, but it was interesting that Paul even had to mention it. "You don't trust them."

"It has nothing to do with that," the captain insisted. "But—" He was cut off by his ringing work cell. He ignored it for a couple of rings but ultimately checked the caller. He cursed. "Gotta take this," he said, and when the detectives stood up to leave, he added, "Just get to the bottom of this, so we can get back on track – Hey, no one outside this unit hears about this. Absolutely no one."

"Understood, captain."

"We're fucked!"

"I wouldn't go that far."

"For heaven's sake, Black, she's an agent!"

Leah wanted to pull her hair out, throw something, hit someone – Fuck, she didn't know. She just wanted to go back in time, before Tia got involved, before Tia found herself stuffed in the truck, near death.

"Who's still alive thanks to us," Jacob pointed out, watching Leah as she frantically paced around an empty basement office situated in an area forgotten by most. Thank goodness. "Whatever happened to her, it wasn't us. It had nothing to do with us, and honestly, that's all that matters."

The detectives would end up spending most of the day at the hospital and at the impound, hoping and praying for any lead relating to Agent Pereira's assault. But unfortunately, there wasn't much they could do until they met with the DEA, and by the time four o'clock rolled around, the detectives had declared the day mostly a dud.

That was until half-past four, when Embry stopped by their desks, looking he had just run a marathon. The younger cop, along with Jared and Esposito, had spent most of their day snooping around North Homan and West Iowa. Interestingly enough, out of the trio, Embry was the only one back at the station.

"Spoke to the homeless guys on Homan. You know, the ones from across the street…." he began, gathering his breath. He pulled out a notepad from his back jean pocket and flipped back a few pages. He skimmed the notes. "Said the Camaro's been there for a day and saw four people stepping out of it the day before. All dressed in black, and… that's about it." He looked up and shrugged. "Couldn't tell if they were men or women or both. Or neither."

The look Leah and Jacob exchanged shared the same thought: Embry's words weren't too promising. Dressed all in black? Working with that description was more useless than working with only a license plate. At least, the license plate number was somewhat a unique identifier.

"So, it seems we're off to a great start," Jacob muttered sarcastically. He loosened the tie around his neck and rolled up his sleeves. "When did the car arrive?"

"I'm guessing a little before three, three-thirty? The homeless guys said the car arrived sometime in the afternoon. Right before a bunch of kids with book bags walked by. Must've been coming home from school."

Leah nodded. "Four people, huh?"

"Yeah, I gotta say, that lady's lucky to be alive," Embry said, shaking his head understandably in disbelief. Tia's heart was still beating, but the woman was still unconscious. She's in a coma, the doctor had told Leah, it's unpredictable. Any updates, we'll be sure to let you folks know. It could be today, tomorrow, next year, or never. "Spent several hours inside a trunk like that?" He shook his head again. "I'm telling you she got an angel somewhere."

"Or is just lucky," Leah remarked. There was really no other explanation behind it. She rubbed her hands together before telling the younger cop, "Thanks, Em."

Embry grinned and put a thumbs-up. "You got it – Oh, snap, and…." He quickly flipped to the next page. "The driver was a smoker. Had a cigarette in his left hand, so I assume he's a lefty? Maybe?" He let out a low chuckle and smirked. "You know what they say about lefties," he teased. "Can't trust 'em."

Leah rolled her eyes when Embry and Jacob shared a fist bump. "You both wish you could be a part of the ten percent like me – Hey, did my fellow brethren happen to be stupid enough to leave the cigarette anywhere?"

"Jared and Esposito are on it," Embry said, then snapped his fingers. "Oh, damn, can't believe I almost forgot…." He flipped to another page. "Yeah, we may wanna check out this address." He gave it to the detectives. "It's a few doors down. HG said the car occupants knocked on the door before getting let in."

Jacob lifted an eyebrow. "HG?"

"Homeless guys," Embry explained as if the acronym was common knowledge.

"I'm guessing you couldn't get inside?"

Embry shook his head. "But Jared and Esposito are on that, too. We kind of wanna avoid using the ram. Attracts less attention. Jared and Esposito said they'd hit me up when something or someone comes up…" he trailed off with a frown. "I wonder why they left her in the trunk, though? Overnight?"

"Did the occupants ever leave the place?" Leah asked.

"HG didn't say," Embry said, "But considering that no one was home when I last checked, they must've left some time ago."

"No CCTV?"

"Out of commission."

Jacob snorted. "How convenient."

"That's very curious that they left her and the car," Leah said. "Either they were incompetent enough to forget about them or wanted us to find them."

She hoped it was the latter, but she had a sinking feeling that it was the former.

"You can't forget about a car like that," Jacob pointed out, but that most likely had more to do with his admiration with the blue Camaro. "Or an entire person."

Embry crossed his arms, looking from Leah to Jacob and back. "They knew she was working with us?" he asked. When the detectives responded with shrugs, the young cop remarked, "Well, if they wanted to get rid of her for talking, then just put a bullet between her eyes, toss her into the lake, and call it a day. Now, she's been found and alive. That can't be ideal for them, unless..."

Jacob sat up in his seat. "Are you suggesting she was…" He shared a look with his partner. "Purposely kept alive?"

"What did she do for a living again?"

"Unofficially, a someone who ran around the streets," Leah told Embry. "Officially, a DEA agent."

"She was working undercover," Jacob added. "This doesn't leave this office."

"Oh." Embry's eyes quickly widened exponentially. "Oh."

The detectives nodded in unison.

"Yeah, a couple of agents stopped by earlier," Jacob said. "Gave the captain a hard time, of course, but agreed to work with us."

"So, this is another Sam-situation."

Leah could see why Embry would think so, but "The difference was whoever did this most likely knew she was a fed," she said. "That's one hell of a difference."

"Am I in trouble?"

Paul looked up from his computer and at Leah, who was standing under the threshold to his office. It was a little after six – She was supposed to have left for the day an hour ago, but there she was, looking as if she was moments away from turning in her badge. This wasn't a look anyone was used to seeing on the seasoned detective.

The captain lifted an eyebrow. "Is there a reason why you think you'd be in trouble?" When Leah didn't respond, he sighed, typed a few more words on the computer, and motioned the detective to sit down before him. "You're not. You've done nothing wrong."

Leah took a deep breath. He was probably right, but she couldn't shake this nagging feeling of despair. She wished Pereira was just some poor lady with the wrong crowd, then this investigation would've been simple. Well, at least, less complicated.

She folded her hands over her lap. "I used an undercover agent as an informant without notifying her agency," she said. She cursed under her breath. How could she have been so stupid? She had a gut feeling about the woman, she should've listened to it. Should've done something about it. "An undercover agent."

Paul leaned back in his seat. "Unofficially an informant," he pointed out. "Anyway, all of her info checked out, right?"

Leah was amazed (perhaps a bit concerned) at how calm the captain was. This was Paul Lahote. He hated dealing with the feds on the best of days. Plus, yet another confidential informant was out of the commission, pushing any considerations of a completed investigation even farther back. And she was pretty sure the brass was up the captain's ass about this debacle… but Paul was calm. Nowhere near the vicinity of phasing out of anger. He hadn't even uttered a curse.

Leah eyed the captain. "She works for the goddamn DEA," she carefully reminded him. "The DEA."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Paul said nonchalantly as if he already knew how this story was going to end. Or as if he knew something that Leah didn't. "It wasn't your fault she ended up bound inside a trunk."

Leah snorted. "That's easy for you to say," she mumbled under breath, but her voice was loud enough for the captain to hear.

"You don't believe me," Paul accused with a frown. "Honestly, you don't believe me?"

"I'm… just concerned." Terrified, more like it. Leah didn't want to wreck her career and reputation because of an honest mistake. She had plans, for heaven's sake. she wanted to retire with a pension. She just wanted this investigation to be resolved. "That's all."

"C'mon, you know me. I'm not one to bullshit anyone."

"Captain—"

"Clearwater, if you were fucked, I'd let you know off the bat, and I'm here, telling you right now that you're not," Paul said seriously. "Do you think I'd put you in such a situation? Besides the fact that you're one of my own, and I respect the hell outta you, I want to avoid an Internal Affairs investigation and lecture from the brass just as much as anyone."

Leah had to scoff. "And here I thought you and Internal Affairs were friends."

Paul rolled his eyes. "They're a pain in my ass, is what they are," he said, tightly crossing his arms. "Of course, they're a necessary evil. Imagine how this place would be without them and their damn rules? But still a pain in the ass." His expression then relaxed, along with his arms. "You're good. I promise."

Leah was never the one for promises, but she trusted the man across from her. With her life, even. She gave a nod, genuinely grateful for his words. "Thank you," she said as she rose from her seat. "Thank you, Captain."

"Anytime, Detective," Paul said with a nod, and then as Leah turned to walk away, "If it makes you feel better, I think your informant-agent may be in a helluva lot more trouble than you'll ever be."

Leah turned around, brought her eyebrows together, and titled her head, hoping the captain would elaborate, but when he picked up the phone and quickly dialed a number, she knew the conversation was over.

Tia's prognosis remained unchanged.

No visitors were allowed without permission.

From whom?

The hospital staff didn't say.

Not that they had to.

"You cannot be serious," Leah grumbled, dropping her coat back on her desk when she noticed Paul exiting his office with two suited-up agents. She figured the two men were her and Jacob's new DEA partners. Talk about wonderful timing. "They choose now to make an appearance?"

"Well, they're heading our way, so I guess they wanna talk to us. Have a little meeting. You think they're gonna give us OT?" Jacob said with a chuckle, taking off his coat. He sat back down at his desk. He nudged Leah's arm with an elbow. "Hey, don't look so annoyed." He gave her a lopsided grin. "We gotta make an impression, yeah? Show the feds who's the boss around here."

"Yeah, okay," Leah responded with the roll of her eyes. Of course, right when she was ready to head home after a long day, the goddamn DEA decided to show up. Of course. "This couldn't wait until the morning?"

"These are the feds, Clearwater," Jacob said. "They operate on their own time."

Paul eventually caught up to the detectives with the agents right behind him. The captain turned to the newcomers. The two agents: Adam Leslie and Tony Grillo. Both middle-aged. One Black and one White. Off the bat, there wasn't any of the pretentious aura some people from outside agencies had when dealing with their people and their case.

Leah was feeling a bit better about this untimely partnership.

"Let me introduce you to Detective Jacob Black and Detective Leah Clearwater," Paul said to the agents. "They had worked closely with Agent Pereira until…." He looked to Leah. "I'd say September?"

"Late August," Leah respectively corrected. "It's a pleasure," she said, exchanging a handshake with each detective. Jacob did the same. "Wished it was under much better circumstances," Leah added.

"Likewise," Leslie said with a nod. "So, if you both aren't too busy, let's have a chat."

The detectives and agents ultimately chose an abandoned office in the basement, where they knew they wouldn't be disturbed, with Leah and Jacob sitting on one side of a worn wooden table while the DEA agents sat down the other. The atmosphere could have been tense, but it wasn't.

Despite only knowing Grillo and Leslie for a total of fifteen minutes, Leah already liked the agents enough to tolerate them, and based on the limited number of snarky remarks, Jacob seemed to like them, too. The agents were open to engage in some small talk, made some mundane comments about sports and the new virus, talked about how long they are in the business. This wasn't an interrogation, and no one made it that way.

Based on their rapport, Grillo and Leslie obviously worked together before. Perhaps, for a while. They were those kinds of old-timers, seasoned agents. Leah couldn't help but feel relieved. There was something about old-timers she appreciated. They just wanted to get their shit done and go home. There is no sucking up the bosses for half-hearted praises and potential promotions, no grandstanding, not here to make a scene, and generally less afraid to get their hands dirty.

With all due respect to the others.

Halfway between Leslie's and Jacob's mini-debate about the future of Mitch Trubisky's future with the Chicago Bears, Grillo pulled out a half-eaten sandwich from his briefcase; when everyone looked at him, he gave them a sheepish, tired smile, "Hope you don't mind," he said with a laugh, more directed at himself. "Hadn't had anything since the morning."

Jacob, who had probably written a love sonnet dedicated to food, waved dismissively. "Nah, go ahead," he said. "We should've thought the same."

"Late night ahead?" Leslie asked.

"I guess it depends on how this conversation goes," Leah said, fishing out a piece of gum from her pocket. She was getting hungry herself.

Leslie nodded. "Fair enough." He pulled out a notepad and pen. "Listen, we're not trying to step on your feet."

Grillo pulled out a can of pop from the briefcase, along with some napkins, and nodded.

"Neither are we," Jacob said.

"We just want to get this shit over with," Grillo said. "Get to the bottom of this, and move on."

"I'm glad we see eye-to-eye," Leah said.

Grillo eyed Leah and nodded with a smile. "Glad, too." He took out his notepad and pen and slapped the table. "Alright, let's be candid with each other, alright? No B.S—" He took a deep breath. "What the hell happened?"

"That's what we wanna know," Jacob said. He looked to Leah and told the agents, "We had no idea about anything involving undercover agents from your agency. To us, that woman in the trunk was Tia, a local hustler. Not Catalina Pereira. Not a DEA agent. But Tia."

Leslie leaned back in his seat and looked from one detective to the other. "Pereira never introduced herself as Pereira?" he asked. "Agent Pereira?"

Leah shook her head. If something was bothering him, Leslie didn't show it on his face, but Leah paid attention to the way his heart skipped a beat. Her answer wasn't what he wanted to hear.

The agent jotted down in his notepad. "How did you find her?"

"Got a tip from some punk we apprehended," Jacob said. "Only gave us a license plate, and we got lucky."

"Joaquin Carlos Rivera Nunez," Grillo read from his notes. "He was arrested along with Emilio de la Cruz Rosario."

Jacob confirmed with a nod. "We picked them up last week in a raid," he explained. "Emilio has been tight-lipped, but Joaquin's slowly but surely talking. He wants to save his own hide."

"Hopefully with a lawyer?"

Jacob snorted. "He pled guilty," he said. "It was just a standard raid, hoping to get some information on the man we're really after: Sancho Alvarez."

The agents didn't look surprised.

The DEA knew about Sancho Alvarez.

Everyone did, and still, no one seemed to know where the bastard was.

"Heard he's back on stateside but remains a ghost," Grillo grimly remarked. He took a bite out of his sandwich and nodded. "Pereira gave absolutely you no indication that she was DEA? Law enforcement or anything?"

The detectives looked at each other, and both shook their heads. "As far as we knew," Leah said. "She was just some lady off the street, talking to us to stay out of trouble. Get out a possession charge."

"Haven't seen her since?" Leslie looked at his notes. "September?"

"That's right," Leah said. She studied the agents; they were clearly suspicious, but she doubted he had anything to do with her and Jacob. "She was caught up in a drive-by in Cicero. Spoke to her in the hospital, and it's been radio silence ever since."

Literally.

"When was the drive-by?"

"Same night," Leah said. "Pereira was fine, but the other occupant..." She trailed off with a deep breath. "She was in the hospital for a bit." She paused. "Maria Perez."

"Wasn't she the one who got off on a mistrial?" Leslie asked.

"Unfortunately," Jacob said. "We have a feeling that she had something to do with the Green Lawn Ditch Murders. Her husband, Ricky Ricardo, was one of the victims."

Grillo nodded. "Yeah, I heard about that." He took another bite. "When did Pereira start talking to you?"

"She was picked up from Monroe in the summer for illegal possession back in the Spring," Leah explained. "She had contraband in her possession. A bullet."

"A UV?" Leslie offered.

Jacob looked at the agent, taken aback. "You know about UVs?"

"Let's just say that's the ATF's problem," Leslie said flippantly. Either there was more to the story, or the DEA just didn't care. "How did she acquire this UV?"

The detectives exchanged a look of confusion. Were the agents asking these questions to verify the information they already had? Maybe the detectives were suspects, after all? None of this made any sense.

Leah lifted an eyebrow and looked from one agent to the other. "You don't know about this…?" The detective cleared her throat when the agents gave her a blank stare. "So, she didn't tell you anything about any of this? About us?"

Leslie glanced at his partner from the corner of his eye and shook his head. "No," he said gravely. "As far as we know, she had no interactions with the Chicago Police Department outside what's expected, given her supposed profession. Or at least, that had been the plan. Work was only supposed to be focused in Cicero and Aurora, which isn't your jurisdiction."

Jacob cursed.

Leah placed a hand on her forehead and closed her eyes. This couldn't be happening. "You're fucking with us," she accused, desperately wanting all of this to be some cruel joke. "You gotta be."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're doing the same, to be honest," Grillo said. Seconds of silence passed before he spoke again, "She spent all that time talking to you as a source?"

"Unofficial source," Jacob corrected. "We had no plans on putting her on the stand."

"It doesn't matter," Leslie said. He ran a hand down his face and cursed under his breath. "It doesn't matter."

Silence again fell between the detectives and agents until Leah spoke up, "I think you need to get some answers from your colleague," And possibly a conversation their version of Internal Affairs. "Obviously, she's been deceiving you or lying by omission… if everything you're saying is true."

Leslie and Grillo exchanged a look before Leslie said in a strained voice, "Seems so, doesn't it?"

Several minutes after the hour-long conversation with the DEA agents, Leah found herself standing on the steps of the police station, patiently waiting for Jacob to finish his report. Fifteen minutes top, promised the man who was to be Leah's ride. They planned to stop at Jacob's place before heading out for an extended pack run. After today's events, it was a run that everyone desperately needed.

She couldn't wait.

After checking the time on her phone, Leah decided to cross the icy street and meet up with Grillo, who was standing a few cars down from where his partner was parked. He acknowledged the detective with a nod, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his inner coat pocket, lit it up, and took a long drag as he looked aimlessly around. He then glanced at Leah with a small smile and lifted the pack. "Cigarette?"

Leah shook her head. "Not much of a smoker."

"Never had one?"

"Only once in a while."

Grillo lightly scoffed and pocked with the cigarettes. "Hey, stay that way?" He took another drag before holding it out in front of him. He stared at the tobacco before putting back in his mouth. "The wife calls these cancer-sticks."

"She's not wrong."

"No, she's not… but nicotine doesn't like to let its victim go in peace."

"Tried the patch?"

"Been trying it for years, but this job's not making easy."

Leah nodded, completely understanding. To be frank, her biggest stress relievers had been the nightly hunts and runs, and even those had their limits. "You're telling me." She rubbed her gloved hands together; it seemed like the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since the afternoon. She cleared her throat and stole a glance at the agent. "Sorry about your colleague."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too." Grillo paused and lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug. "At least, she's still alive."

If there were a silver lining, that was certainly it.

"A blessing."

"You got that right." Grillo took a couple of more drags before dropping the cigarette onto the snowy ground, crushing with the toe of his shoe. He placed his hands in his coat pocket and carried on, "I'm sure it's the same with your folks, but when one of ours gets hit, it's a whole another ballgame."

"It's the same," Leah said, glancing at the station across the street. Then, she took a step closer to the agent and quietly asked, "You knew her?"

"As much as any colleague," Grillo said. Nothing in his voice or expression indicated the relationship between him and Tia (no, Catalina) was anything beyond that. He looked at Leah from the corner of his eye. "Off the record?"

"Sure."

"You ever saw Training Day?"

"Of course," Leah quietly replied, eyeing the agent and wondering what Grillo was getting at. And then it hit her. Her eyes widened from the implication. "Oh."

Grillo solemnly nodded. "Yeah, something like that."

Leah cursed under her breath.

"It can be like that, unfortunately," Grillo quietly added. "You're in it for so long that the lines between who you are and what you're supposed to be a blur to the point they become one. You think you can make it work, and hell, it may for some time, but it never lasts forever."

Leah didn't have an immediate response. She knew the deal about undercover work from experience. It sucked, but it was necessary. While she and Grillo fell into silence, Leah flashed back to the last conversation with Tia (Catalina, damn it); the woman sounded done with it all but still maintained she had a job to do.

Several seconds passed before Leah broke the silence, "Still of the record?"

Grillo nodded.

"Is the DEA's version of Internal Affairs involved?"

Grillo lifted an eyebrow, then snorted. "Can't tell you that, Detective," he said, though he had probably given away the answer. He knew it, too. "No offense."

"None taken," Leah said. "None taken, at all.

"She had her…." Grillo trailed off and shook his head before quietly continuing, "But she was damn good at her job." He paused. "Is. She's still kicking." He cleared his throat. "Gotta remembered that."

Leah nodded in response, suddenly wishing she had taken up the agent's offer for a cigarette. Yeah, she gotta remember that. She gotta remember that Tia was still alive. She looked over her shoulder when she heard Jacob walking out of the station. He was on the phone, confirming tonight's run with the rest of the pack.

"Get home safe, Agent Grillo."

"You, too, Detective Clearwater."