Trixie was missing.

She wasn't dead, she was simply missing. They would find her.

Chloe repeated this a few times, trying to separate facts from panic. She always feared that her daughter would be affected by the dire consequences of her parent's job. Mostly, she was afraid that Trixie would be orphaned, either by her or by Dan, and would have to suffer the loss of a parent at a much too young age. This concern wasn't diminishing with, on the contrary – Chloe with certain despair realized, that the older her daughter was, the more she needed them, both her and Dan. Her needs only changed from physical into more psychological ones, but it only opened the new dimensions of vulnerability, for all of them.

Sometimes, when the precinct was leading the investigation against crime syndicates, Chloe – and Dan – feared that Trixie's life might be directly endangered. They knew, how the mob can operate. A few times they even sent Trixie away, to the grandparents, to wait in the safe distance until the most chaotic part of the investigation was over.

But what happened today was different. True, it appeared that Trixie fell an accidental victim of her father's job risk. Still, Chloe had a sinking, gnawing feeling, that there was something more in it. A hunch, somewhere between panic and guilt, that the case was… personal. She struggled to control it. Fight the panic, stick to the facts.

Monroe and the man accompanying her, agent Carson, as she learnt, were very cautious around her. They took her to the Lieutenant's office and pulled the blinds down before they started to explain her the situation. Probably they expected her to cry.

And yet, when she learnt what happened, Chloe didn't cry. After the first shocked reaction, her brain in strange defensive mechanism started to join the facts, putting the pieces of information together, into the picture of consequences and coincidences that led them to this place.

"So it was this stunt," she said a bit numbly, drawing the first conclusion. "Benitez was the stunt."

"A stunt?" asked carefully agent Carson. "What do you mean?"

"My last case at some point concerned the narcotic gang," explained the detective, feeling strangely detached when she was relating the facts. "During the investigation, one of the dealers testified there was some kind of aggressive competition between the two drug trafficking groups. The victim in my case was killed in retaliation for some earlier… stunt, as they called it. However, I didn't manage to persuade them to tell, what it was. Probably my… partner would be able to learn the truth, but somehow he was absent during the interrogation because we were quarrelling about somethings that seemed to be important at the moment," her voice stuttered a little when she added with a surprise: "Now I cannot recall what it was."

Agent Carson and Monroe exchanged glances and the lieutenant retrieved from her drawer the blister with sedatives. Chloe only shook her head in refusal.

Agent Carson cleared his throat. "Usually the gangs do not try to involve the police into settling their scores. Gaspar Benitez, whom you thought to be… contrite…" the agent spat the last word sarcastically, looking at Monroe. The lieutenant pressed her lips into the thin line but replied nothing. "Well, Benitez was, in fact, bribed into the cooperation with the police by the competing gang. Information provided by him was to bring the whole gang down and leave the market in the hands of the competition. Probably this was referred to as 'the stunt'."

"And the competing gang was in the meantime working on the new product, called the Death's Door," nodded the detective. She was still struggling with this odd feeling of detachment, but at least she finally managed to look her interlocutors in the eyes. She hoped she looked reasonable enough so that they wouldn't try to send her home or, worse, to the psychiatrist. "But the other gang learnt about Benitez betrayal and in retaliation killed Jeremy Mitchell, who was the unaware supplier of their competitors. They also left enough trails for us to get the whole trafficking circle down."

"Now we got all pieces of the puzzle," concluded Monroe.

"A bit too late, don't you think?" snapped Carson. "The problem is, that the gang did not simply get rid of Benitez, only decided to use him as the double agent. You didn't notice that for a few weeks Benitez at this point was blackmailed and manipulated, deliberately feeding you with misleading information."

For a moment, they measured themselves with the angry glances, undoubtedly already measuring the weight of guilt and responsibility in the future reports. They are expecting… casualties, thought Chloe. They are already making damage control… to their carriers.

Some of her feelings must have appeared on her face because agent Carson turned to her with sympathetic expression: "Your husband, as Benitez leading contact, was under the observation of the gang. However, they wouldn't expose themselves by hurting him. They were going to use Benitez as a double agent as long as possible. Only that…" Carson hesitated, cleared his throat once again, "something happened in the meantime. The intel information is unclear, but you know that a few members of their gang were… slaughtered… in the pub… I saw the pictures and…"

"I know, I was there," Chloe cut him off.

"There is no reason to suspect, that it also was the part of these gangs competition," observed Monroe. "We found no traces."

Carson sent her a disapproving glance. "And yet there must have been some connection because it appears the other members of the gang… panicked… and things slipped out of control after that. They wanted to cut the loose ends by killing Benitez, but somehow he escaped… and the things didn't go as expected..."

No, they certainly didn't, bridled internally Chloe. Because Dan was expected to be with Trixie at the swimming contest.

They never reached it.

It remained unclear, what exactly happened because the relations of Dan and the witnesses were incomplete. Somehow, instead of driving to the swimming pool, Dan met Benitez, still with Trixie in the car. There was a quarrel and the shooting, and her ex-husband got shot. When the LAPD found him, Trixie and Benitez were missing.

Chloe had a feeling, that Dan didn't say anything, but he was immediately taken to the surgery, out of contact at the moment.

"We have mobilized all resources to find them," said gently agent Carson, leaning toward her with a supportive smile. "Everything will be fine, Detective… Chloe. We would offer Benitez witness protection and get your daughter back. And your husband would get over it."

For a moment, Chloe wanted to snap at this man, to tell him he is not allowed to use this fatherly tone toward her because her father was dead… and that Dan was no longer her husband… but she swallowed back her anger. He was only trying to be helpful and they were, indeed, doing everything possible to find her daughter.

"I will join the others," she asked only, indicating with the slight nod outside Monroe's office, where the precinct personnel was working on finding Benitez and her daughter. To Chloe's relief, the lieutenant didn't try to send her home.

"Yes, if you feel you are up to," Monroe said only. "But Chloe," she added after a moment, "I know that you need a support of your family in such moment, but do not contact anyone. The publicity could have tragic consequences. You cannot inform any outsiders, not even your mother."

Chloe nodded in agreement, accepting Monroe's argument... To tell the truth, her mother was the last person she would turn to seek support. It would only result in her being forced to console Penelope, not vice versa.

She only regretted she couldn't call Lucifer. Unfortunately, now he was an outsider too.

Trixie is alive, reminded herself constantly Chloe. Even gangsters do not kill children with cold blood. Benitez won't kill her. He needs her, as leverage.

Witness protection was Benitez only chance now and the detective built her hope around it. She could imagine this man quarrelling with Dan, the argument slipping out of control, the shooting – oh, how scared Trixie must have been! Her poor little girl. But there were no traces indicating that she was hurt.

Trixie is alive, repeated Chloe, once again. We would find her and take care of her. I would take her to the psychologist, we would make the therapy, she would be fine. We would fix it.

The detective almost smirked at the realization, how eager the brain of the parent adjusted, catching the smallest strain of hope. If someone had told her yesterday, that her daughter would get kidnapped, she would be terrified. When it happened, she focused on the aspects allowing her to have hope for the happy ending. She was not terrified, she was almost grateful. It could have been so much worse. So far, nothing irreversible happened.

Trixie was alive and they would find her.

Everyone at the precinct, the reinforcements including, were doing their best. They managed to identify the Benitez car and were methodically checking the recordings, one file after another, trying to render his route through the city.

The detective also noticed that many people tried to show her their support and for the first time since Palmetto she felt that she was a member of this small community. However, after a hug or short condolences, her colleagues kept their distance, as if she was wrapped in some invisible bubble of misery. That's why she missed Lucifer. He wouldn't, like the others, step aside, watching her with the mixture of compassion and anxiety. He would certainly say or do something inappropriate, something indicating, that he had no idea what she was going through – but he would stay close to her.

Anyway, Chloe thought she was doing well. She was keeping a clear mind, working, interacting with others, remaining strong and professional, to such extent, that some people started to send her suspicious glances. Probably they expected her to show some emotions. She didn't care, her emotions wouldn't help Trixie.

She needed to find her. Hug her, console her, make sure she was fine.

Only after that Chloe would allow herself to break down.

The first moment of weakness came when someone brought her a sandwich. At first, the detective got surprised that it was already lunchtime – her heart skipped for a moment when she saw how many hours passed.

And then she thought about Trixie, who must have been hungry too. Did this man give her some food? Water? Was she not too scared to eat? When would she finally be able to take care of her?

And, oh, would she ever see her again?...

Once the forbidden thought, the first moment of doubt, passed through her mind, the wave of fear washed over her, so strong that she wanted to fell on her knees and wail. Somehow, she pulled herself up but wasn't able to rebuild the previous composure. She wasn't a detective anymore, only a mother, who didn't see her daughter since so many hours, whose little, so very little girl was kidnapped by the criminal, searched by half od the LA police… She needed someone to help her pull herself together. She moved the food aside – its very sight causing nausea – and went to Monroe.

"I'd like to call Lucifer and tell him what happened," she said simply.

The lieutenant shook her head. "I am sorry, no. No outsiders. He resigned. Besides," Monroe added: "he could not do anything that we aren't already doing."

Chloe took a few deep breaths, trying to think logically again. Monroe was right. Lucifer, with all his unusual abilities, never gave much input when they were searching for a someone or something. His investigative talents focused on people, not databases.

He wouldn't help much in the search. Of course, he would comfort her and she needed that very much, but her comfort wasn't the priority at the moment.

"Okey. I understand," the detective nodded, accepting the refusal.

The second, much more serious breakdown came a few hours later, when Dan called her. At this stage, the stress and fatigue were slowly overtaking her. For the whole day she drank only a bit of water, and even these she forced into herself, the images of her daughter, hungry, thirsty and scared haunting her each time she tried to drink.

And then her mobile ringed and her ex-husband name appeared on the screen.

"Dan?" she asked surprised. "They let you call? How are you?"

"I begged one of the nurses to bring me my phone for a moment," replied Dan. He sounded utterly broken. "Chloe, I am sorry."

"That's not your fault," replied quickly Chloe. She could only imagine, that he was suffering much worse than she, lying helpless and hurt in the hospital. "That's our job risk. We will find her," she assured him with certainty she didn't feel. "How do you feel?"

"I am fine. Chloe," whispered Dan, "that's my fault. That was not… accidental."

"What do you mean?" The sinking feeling, the bad hunch overwhelmed her again and Chloe wavered on her feet, realizing that she was right suspecting that Dan didn't manage to tell them everything before the surgery and that she as about to learn something bad.

"Do you know how the gang blackmailed Benitez? With the life of his daughter. Not a girl, the young women, but... They kept her captive and in the end…" Dan silenced suddenly. She heard him swallow a few times until he spoke again: "It seems they murdered her."

Chloe felt as if the ground was slipping from under her feet at the implications.

"You mean that…"

"He blamed me, Chloe. I didn't know about anything, but still, he blamed me somehow for this fiasco. For her death. That's what he told me today."

"Oh." Chloe tried to fight off the wave of nausea. If Benitez lost it after the death of his daughter, he wouldn't be interested in the witness protection. If Trixie was kidnapped out of revenge...

Trixie is alive and we would find her.

"We will find her, Dan," she assured him, her heart breaking and wailing over the misery of all of them.

"Chloe, there is more," said Dan, brokenly. "He knew I had… Trixie… because I took her once… at our meeting."

"What?"

"The first time, just as I was assigned to this case…" Dan sighed, as of speaking caused him pain, but continued quickly. "I was driving with Trixie for the check-up to the pediatrists, and just after that Benitez called… It was to be our first meeting, I didn't want to appear unreliable, so I met him on the way to the doctor…"

"You took Trixie for a meeting with a gang informer?"

"She was waiting in the car," replied Dan quickly and Chloe thought she had never heard anything more stupid. Dan must have realized how it sounded too and added after a moment: "But he noticed her. Later, he asked me about her a few times. I thought he was being friendly."

He wasn't friendly, he was thinking about his own daughter that was the hostage of the gang, thought numbly Chloe.

If Dan was here now, she would rip him into pieces.

"You should have asked me to go to this doctor. Or cancel the visit," she said only.

"But you couldn't. You had to stay with the forensics. Remember? It was when Mitchell's body was found. You called me, and… we quarrelled earlier… and I wanted to prove that I…"

"That you are better than me both at work and at family," Chloe finished for him.

Yes, she remembered that day when she and Lucifer drove to Jeremy's shop for the first time, only to find his body. She and Dan quarrelled in that morning. He wanted to show her he was a better detective and better parent, and she wanted to prove that she was fine without him. And then Trixie's doctor changed the hour of the appointment and she couldn't make it on time, because they drove in Lucifer's car, and there was no backseat in the Corvette, so she called Dan and he of course agreed… and then apparently he also agreed to meet Benitez… A sequence of coincidences and choices, petty and accidental – and yet consequential, because they were based on their anger, pride and jealousy.

Apparently, there were consequences to all of them.

Is it our fault that we lost her? She thought and the wave of guilt crashed over her. For a moment, she felt utterly helpless, everything inside her curling with misery.

Guilt is unproductive.

"Why are you telling me this? This won't help me find her," she said sharply, not recognizing her own voice.

"Chloe, I…

"Just do not say that you are sorry. Do not say it." Sorry was an empty word. She could be sorry to the end of her life, and that wouldn't bring Trixie back.

"You would like to hear me saying that it is fine, that it is not your fault… but that's not the point," she said to Dan, ignoring his pained sigh. "If we get her back, everything would be fine. If we don't… nothing would mend it."

In a long moment of silence that followed her words, she was crumbling inside under the weight of regrets. Dan wasn't the only one to blame, she should tell him that. She was also taking part in this nexus of choices, and the consequences were also her doing.

She should tell it Dan, and he would perhaps feel a bit better and that would perhaps make her feel just a little better too. But it wouldn't help Trixie and they didn't deserve to feel better, so Chloe refused to search for this small moment of common comfort.

"Just… find her," whispered Dan finally.

"I will try," she replied, ending the call. She probably should have said 'I will', but for the first time, she let the doubts falter her faith.

Chloe related the first part of the conversation with Dan to Monroe and Carson and she saw, how their faces darkened when they heard about Benitez' daughter. They consulted it with the psychologists working on Benitez profile, but one did not need to be a psychologist to know that Trixie's chances fell down rapidly.

They moved her to work on the street monitoring in a separate room. They said it was important and urgent, but Chloe knew, that they didn't want her to hear that the others try to estimate the chances of her daughter being still alive.

That was when she thought about Lucifer again, but this time not seeking a friend, who could comfort her, but considering his cobweb of favours. Could it be used to save Trixie? When Lucifer spoke about his deals, he made it sound so innocent, as if it was no more than some kind of sophisticated social network agency. However, she knew his deals had also a shady side. Lucifer wasn't shy to exchange favours with criminals, mafia and dealers including. Could any of his contacts be used to help her?

Chloe was certain, that no matter their sad, almost angry parting he would agree to help. After all, he didn't hold the grudge, judging from the fact how easily he plunged into the vortex of parties in LUX. So, if she asked, he certainly would not refuse her.

Unless…

Lucifer always kept his word and never made the deals he couldn't fulfil.

If she asked him for help and he would refuse, it would mean that he thought Trixie cannot be saved. That was a test Chloe didn't dare to take.

Oh, but what I am thinking about? She rubbed her forehead, trying to fight off the wave of vertigo, caused by weariness, stress and hunger. Half of the LA force is searching for my daughter, using all resources and techniques available, and I would keep the opinion of one man as the deciding one?

But he said he was not a man, only a devil.

Could the devil bring my daughter back? Chloe smirked, for the first time since morning. If it only had been so simple, she would gladly sign any pact, sell her soul, anything…

I am losing it, she realized, gasping for air. I am getting crazy. They would send me to the hospital and stuff me with sedatives, and I won't be able to help Trixie…

"Chloe?" Monroe peeked into the room and the detective jumped at the chair, looking at her superior with a scared, guilty expression. However, on Monroe's face appeared a small smile. "We have found Benitez. We located his car and the building, in which he is hiding."

It was an old museum, of all places. Massive, rather ugly building, in its best days must have discouraged potential visitors with the boring façade. No wonder, it went bankrupt. Now, in with blank windows and walls marred with some graffiti, barely visible in the darkness, it looked simply depressing.

Darkness? Chloe blinked in surprise, for the first time acknowledging the night sky. How late was it exactly? And how was it possible that she didn't notice it on her way here from the precinct?

"Everything's fine, Chloe?" asked Monroe quietly, and the detective nodded, forcing a small smile. They were staying together, watching how the police vehicles were taking positions around the building – keeping a certain distance, to remain unnoticed, but effectively closing the ring around it.

They didn't want to take her here. Once the location of Benitez hiding had been established, they wanted to keep her away – to wait for the results of the rescue action at the precinct or at home. Or even at the hospital, with Dan. She refused it, just as she refused the psychological help. Finally, Monroe relented and let her come with the others.

However, by the first sign of emotional breakdown, she would be sent away, so she couldn't show how she truly felt.

Lost. Oh, so lost.

Panicked.

Her usual composure was gone, each cell in her body filled with bad premonitions and fear.

But Trixie is somewhere in this building, Chloe repeated, trying to wake up some hope in herself. After the hours of searching, they finally found her, and now she was finally close to her daughter. Trixie is alive, she tried again. Trixie is so close and she is alive. I will get her back, she thought again, but somehow she felt no hope, only increasing panic.

Trixie was in this building, but she was in a company of the madman, a man who lost everything.

As if confirming her fears, agent Carson neared to her with a dreary expression. "Not good," he shook his head. "The information about the shooting somehow leaked to the media. And about the kidnapping too. Half an hour or so, and all these vultures with the cameras would be here, waiting for us to screw it up."

"Shit," cursed silently Chloe. Her rancour toward the press and paparazzi, feeding on her personal tragedy, resurfaced, but what worried her more was Carson's reaction. So far, Carson appeared fully professional and decisive, but now, facing the perspective of spotlights and microphones directed at him, he was losing his confidence.

"What is the strategy?" she asked sharply, the remains of her self-control worn out by the recent blow. "Once we are done with securing the building, are you going to contact Benitez?"

"Contact him," replied Carson after a moment of silence. "We would try to make him speak with the negotiator."

Chloe froze at the hesitation in his voice. He is nervous. He is going to make mistakes. Her trust in his competencies sank down rapidly and in a moment of the angsty clairvoyance sh realized, she must do something, if she wants to save her daughter.

"Let me speak to him," she said abruptly. "I mean, to Benitez. Let me into this building, instead of the negotiator."

"No," replied Monroe and Carson in unison. "you know you cannot be the one to speak with the kidnapper, Detective," added the agent. "You are too… personally engaged."

"I was trained to negotiate in the hostage situation," said Chloe, trying to sound formal, but this façade broke, when she added: "Benitez is a desperate man, who lost his loved one. I am desperate too, fearing for someone I love. I know how he feels. I would know how to speak to him."

"We cannot," replied Monroe. "Chloe, you know the procedures."

Procedures? Damn the procedures, they wouldn't save Trixie. Chloe felt the wave of angst realizing that with each passing second her daughter's life is in increasing danger. How long it would take for Benitez to break down completely? And Trixie was scared, hungry, tired… how long until she starts to panic? To cry, yell, try to run away? Do something that would provoke this man to lose the remains of self-control? In the most likely scenario, Benitez would want to end it all and kill them both, Trixie and himself…

"Then let Lucifer do it," she said, turning to Monroe, ignoring surprised blink on Carson's face. "Let him speak to Benitez."

She saw that the Lieutenant hesitated. After all, she was always more than appreciative of Lucifer, treating him as her wonder-asset, a man who can solve her problems with a snap of his fingers. For a moment it seemed she would agree and Chloe already felt the wave of relief. However, finally Monroe shook her head. "He is not a negotiator, Chloe."

"I heard about some… exotic cooperation of the LAPD with the nightclub owner," added Carson, clearing his throat, "but that's not the place for such experiments."

Yes, because the press would soon be here, thought the detective almost hostile.

"But he is…. Lucifer! He could outtalk anyone!" exclaimed Chloe with exasperation and turned to the lieutenant. "You saw for yourself, how he made armed man surrender and discard the weapon just by talking to them. He would do the same with Benitez."

"I cannot," Monroe sight with sad, but decisive expression. "It is late evening already, Chloe. The evening at the LUX started a few hours ago. You know Lucifer. He must have been already drinking… or worse… I won't allow him to the scene."

"You never minded it before," snorted Chloe ignoring Carson's presence. "He was drinking and smoking at the crime scenes and you didn't care. And now…" she interrupted abruptly, realizing why this time Monroe found it important.

She was afraid of blood testing.

She expected casualties.

Trixie.

They did not believe Trixie would make it alive.

Chloe stared at her superior with the eyes wide open, realizing that she cannot count on the LAPD anymore. If they didn't believe that they could save Trixie, they wouldn't be able to do it.

For a moment, she felt terribly alone, knowing that he daughter's life depends only on her.

There was still Lucifer.

Monroe and Carson were speaking something and Chloe realized they want her to go home. They were kicking her off the scene, and even if a few minutes ago she would give half of her life to be here, now she only nodded, tuning them out.

She finally allowed herself to think about Lucifer in the context that tempted her since morning, even if she didn't dare to explore it. Not the shoulder to cry on. Not the outspoken consultant with terrifyingly efficient manipulative skills. But someone… someone more.

Someone who could save Trixie.

Did anything else matter?

For a second, she felt as flicking between two realities.

In the first one, she was just going to make the worst mistake of her life, discarding the help of the professional force, her co-workers and colleagues, disposing of adequate experience and equipment in favour of the slightly insane, unpredictable nightclub owner. But in the second reality existed otherworldly dimensions and supernatural forces and she could appeal to the one of them to save her child.

What else had she to lose?

Lucifer said she should have more faith in her intuition. She cautiously eyed Carson and Monroe and her intuition told her, that these two, nervous, resigned and yielding to the pressure, are on the straight path to making wrong decisions, resulting in tragic consequences.

"I will go to the hospital," she said numbly, oblivious to the fact that she is lying.

As soon as she got into the car, she called the LUX and, when no one answered, Maze and then the LUX again, but still with no results. Of course, so late in the evening, everyone in the LUX had better things to do than answer the phone.

Chloe hesitated for the last time because it was not easy to draw away from the place, where her daughter was being kept kidnapped, but the determination won over the sentiment. She started the engine and headed for the LUX, praying silently, that she would manage to be back on time.

Dear Readers, in the last weeks my whole life was turned upside down because of the epidemic situation in Europe. Slowly, I am adapting to the new conditions, sincerely hoping that it won't become much worse.
Perhaps that's why this chapter is a bit longer than intended. I had to split it into two parts. So, the last chapter is still ahead of us.

The title of this chapter comes from the perfect quotation from C.S. Lewis:
"Good and evil both increase at compound interest. That is why the little decisions you and I make every day are of such infinite importance. The smallest good act today is the capture of a strategic point from which, a few months later, you may be able to go on to victories you never dreamed of. An apparently trivial indulgence in lust or anger today is the loss of a ridge or railway line or bridgehead from which the enemy may launch an attack otherwise impossible."