"Are you positive you can keep Gil and the others away long enough for me to talk with Edrisa about Eddie?"
Malcolm didn't doubt Sorcha's ability to create a scene.
He had seen her cause quite a few public disturbances over the years.
Never because she was covering for him after he illegally took off his ankle monitor so he could snuck in to speak with the medical examiner about the body of a man he was accused of killing, though.
Malcolm's hand spasmed at his side as the weight of what Sorcha was doing for him settled on his shoulders.
She was taking a huge risk by helping him sneak into the medical examiner's office to see Edrisa.
If he was caught, she could be charged with aiding and abetting.
A crime punishable either by a fine or time in prison.
Neither something he wanted to see happen. He thought about telling her to go back to his mother's and wait for him to avoid that possibility.
He discarded the thought as quickly as it came to him, however.
Sorcha would refuse to go and head inside with or without him.
"Trust me," she assured him as she joined him on the steps that led into the precinct. "I got this."
"I trust you." He blew out a heavy breath. "You're the only one I feel I can trust at the moment."
Her fingers brushed his in silent offer. He latched onto her hand. Gripped it as tightly as he would a rope tossed to pull him back to shore.
"You can trust Gil. And Dani and JT and Edrisa." Her fingers curled around his. "They have your back. They just have to play the roles assigned to them because they don't know who is on Endicott's payroll."
Part of Malcolm wanted to believe Sorcha.
To believe Gil, Dani, and JT were on his side.
That they didn't think him a murderer.
Like his father.
The other side of him couldn't forget the disappointed look on Gil's face as JT read him his rights and Dani clapped him in cuffs.
Nor could he forget the distrust and suspicion stamped on Dani's face after she and JT came to retrieve him from the holding cell they placed him in. Being stabbed hurt a lot less than seeing that mixture of doubt and hurt in her dark eyes.
JT was the only one who hadn't looked at him as is he had suddenly grown horns and a tail. Course, that was because he didn't have as far to fall in the eyes of the gruff detective. Things between him and JT — Jordan, Jonathan, Jetter? — started off rough. He thought they reached a point where they were more than just co-workers. More even than teammates.
Friends.
He had thought they were becoming friends.
Wrong again, he thought, stomach curdling.
Not that it was any surprise.
Friends were not something he had the pleasure and privilege of.
Outside Sorcha.
"You ready to do this?"
Mal glanced again at the precinct sitting larger than life in front of him. Everything inside him hurt at being here on the steps to the place that became home after his firing from the FBI and knowing he couldn't simply walk inside.
No, he had to sneak into the building.
Like a criminal.
"We'll fix this, Mal." Sorcha's thumb drifted over his knuckles. Stalwart support and silent comfort. Each desperately needed at that moment. "I promise you that we are going to find a way to get your life back."
"I believe you."
He did.
He really did.
They'd find a way to prove he hadn't killed Eddie in a fit of rage and grief.
That the blood on the dead man wasn't his.
That Endicott framed him to keep him from uncovering his secrets and exposing them to the world.
"Let's do this then."
Malcolm gave a small nod before he walked with her into the building.
...
The Whitly kid entered the police precinct with the Corbin girl a little after eleven. What the kid was even doing there given the fact he was on house-arrest puzzled Thomas.
Not that the reason why overly mattered in the end.
He hadn't been hired to figure out why the Whitly kid did the things he did. Way above his pay grade and outside the scope of his training.
Still, he couldn't help but wonder at what drove the kid to do something so damn stupid.
Course, the kid made his career out of doing high risk and dangerous things.
It was one of the reasons why the bureau fired his ass.
And why the higher ups are constantly climbing all over Arroyo.
Thomas Gray set the digital camera he had used to snap some photographs of the couple in the passenger seat so he could enter the time they walked into the precinct into his little notebook. It joined a dozen of other times and things he had jotted down since being hired to follow the Whitly kid and his girlfriend.
This job was by far the easiest one Endicott had ever given him. Follow the kid and his girlfriend around, take some photos of them, and make note of what they were doing, and with whom.
Easy, peasy.
Thomas finished marking down the time and dropped the notepad next to his camera. reached for his phone. His boss made it clear that he wanted to know not only when the kid slipped his ankle monitor but where he went.
"Endicott."
"Kid and his girlfriend are here at Major Crimes."
There was a small, speculative sound from the man on the other end of the phone. Thomas didn't much like Nicholas Endicott. The only reason he started working for him was because his daughter wanted to go to graduate school.
Something that cost money.
A lot of money.
More than a man like him could make as a cop, in fact.
Loans, scholarships, and grants would cover books, lab fees, and most but not all her tuition costs.
Sure, Mackenzie planned to work to help pay for some of her expenses, but part-time at a diner would only cover so much.
They needed money.
Working for Nicholas Endicott was the solution to their dilemma.
Wasn't like he was being asked to kill the kid or his girlfriend.
Just follow them around.
Take some pictures.
No harm, no foul.
"Don't let them out of your sight."
"Of course." It was Endicott's standard order whenever he called to report on the kid or his girlfriend's doings. "Anything else?"
"Notify me as soon as they leave the precinct." Again, his typical orders. Follow the two, take some pictures, jot down where they went and who they talked too. "And let me know where they go next."
"Alright."
The call ended. Thomas placed his phone back in its stand on his dash and sat back to wait for the two to emerge from the building.
As far as job assignments went, this one was easy. Only, Thomas started to suspect there was something more to this job than met the eye.
Not that he'd dig into it.
No, no.
Nicholas Endicott wasn't the sort of man to cross.
He had powerful allies and a host of contract killers at his disposal.
None of whom Thomas wanted to find himself on the opposite end of.
He saw what happened to those who did.
It was enough to convince him to do as he was told.
No harm, no foul, he told himself as he waited.
Easy, peasy.
Lemon squeezy.
...
JT exited his cubicle at the same time Bright-Light strolled into the bullpen. He didn't even need to look at her to know she was a woman on a mission.
A Bright-related one was his guess.
"Cavalry has arrived in ripped jeans and one of Bright's less expensive shirts."
Dani glanced up from the footage she had been surfing through on her computer, one eyebrow arched.
"What?"
JT jerked his head in the direction of the woman making her way in their direction. Dark eyes briefly met his. Burned with questions and speculation. One brow tilted in silent question.
One he didn't need a fancy degree in psychology to figure out.
Was he on Bright's side or did he believe the bullshit going on?
He didn't but had to admit the stack of evidence against Bright's scrawny ass wasn't looking good.
"Got five feet, five inches of trouble coming our way."
Dani leaned up to look over the divider. Soon as she saw who he was talking about, her brow furrowed. Wasn't like JT couldn't guess why she wasn't happy to see Light-Bright.
The bullpen still echoed with the remnants of the heated discussions Collette Swanson and Sorcha Corbin engaged in over Bright following his kidnapping by John Watkins.
"What is she doing here?"
JT shrugged.
"No clue."
And he wasn't about to tempt fate by going over to ask her, either. Marriage taught him one lesson: when a woman walked with a purpose?
It was best to stay out of her way.
"Did Gil say anything to you about her coming in this morning?"
"Nope." JT reached for the half empty cup of coffee on his desk. "And Boss ain't come in yet so we can't go and ask him."
Not that JT would go and ask Gil. Way he saw it? Mini-Bright being at the precinct could either be a good thing or a bad thing.
He was hoping for a good thing.
They damn sure needed it.
"She shouldn't be here." Dani pushed back from her desk. "She needs to leave. Now."
"Don't know if she was called in." JT watched as she stopped to talk with a rookie officer. Brannigan, he recalled the officer's name being. One of Bright-Lite's cousins. "Can't kick her out if she was asked to come in."
"She can't help with this investigation."
"Why not?"
"She's too close to Bright."
"Yeah, that's my point."
"No." Dani shook her head. "Not this time. We can't jeopardize the case."
"Can you think of anyone else who is gonna figure out how to get Bright's skinny ass outta this mess?"
"She's not objective."
"Oh, I disagree, Detective Powell." Bright-Lite's voice dripped honey. "See, I think I'm quite objective, actually."
Dani turned to look at her, a calm, but determined expression on her face.
"You are blinded by your personal feelings for Bright and can't see he did it."
"My personal feelings for Malcolm are exactly why I know he didn't do it." Mini-Bright folded her arms across her chest. A battle stance if JT ever saw one. He moved back into his cubicle, not wanting to get caught in the fight brewing between the two. "If you weren't blinded by your massive trust issues, you'd see that for yourself."
"The facts—"
"Are completely made up." She cocked her head to the side. "Something you'd have figured out if you were objectivelylooking at them and interpreting them as they should be rather than how Nicholas Endicott wants you too."
"There's no other way to interpret the evidence." Frustration throbbed in Dani's voice. Echoed in JT's heart. "Blood can't be—"
"Fabricated?" A small, tight smile curved Light-Bright's lips. "Oh, now, Detective we both know that's false. Plenty of cases where blood evidence has been manipulated to seal a conviction against a particular suspect."
"And hair fibers?" Dani's lips pursed. "How do you explain those getting on Eddie?"
"Well, I'm no detective here," sarcasm dripped from every word, "but I'd say the hair fibers were taken from Malcolm's hairbrush here at the station and planted."
"You think someone here broke into Bright's locker and stole his hairbrush?"
"Most definitely." Bright-Lite shifted her gaze to JT. "Hair follicles don't lie."
"So." Dani's tone was cool, controlled. There was a bite beneath it JT knew all too well. "You think a cop planted evidence."
"No, I don't." Stark disapproval furrowed Light-Bright's brow. "I think a cop broke into his locker and stole the hairbrush. Which they gave to—"
"Someone at the hospital who planted it," JT finished for her. "Makes sense."
"I'd look into those working the floor the night Eddie died." Mini-Bright turned away. "But I'm not looking at this objectively." She started to walk towards Gil's office. "I'll wait in Gil's office for him."
JT looked at Dani once Bright-Lite was out of earshot.
"And you said Mini-Bright couldn't help with the investigation," he couldn't resist saying.
Luckily, his phone rang at that moment.
Not that he wasn't aware of the dirty look Dani aimed at the back of his head.
Nor did he miss her quiet, "Dick."
He just wisely chose not to tempt fate twice in a row.
"Tarmel," he said into the receiver.
A/N: Hello, all! Hope this finds you well!
I want to send a special thank you to Rookblonkorules for their lovely reviews!