Note to all (see BOTH) who have reviewed so far – You're very good, responsible human beings. Thanks for brightening my days as I work on this project.

Tuesday 12:50 pm

Kathleen Frances Frink, or 'Kiff' as she had been known since the age of eight, doused the inside of her locker with lemon pledge. She would've liked to continue scrubbing until the stench was gone rather than just cover it up, but her shift began in ten minutes and she still had to change into her uniform.

She could, she supposed, just take a different locker. There were more than enough on the women's side of the wall to go around. But that just didn't feel right; the same way transferring to a different station at the end of her suspension didn't feel right. She would not allow herself to be driven from anywhere, and even so small a victory as clinging to a smelly old locker was important, especially now.

Since her return to work, her locker had already been subject to several juvenile antics. When someone broke in and tore the pages out of the several books she kept there in case the shift was slow, she cleared out the shredded paper and took it to the recycling center. When someone spray-painted a giant cock on the inside of the locker's door, she wiped it away with turpentine and removed some of the ladies' room graffiti while she was at it. When there was a dead rat waiting for her just yesterday morning, she took it out back and tossed it to the alley cats. It was getting to the point where she made a habit of showing up several hours early so that she'd have time to deal with whatever gift would be there next.

She carried on this quiet resistance to the beat of the orchestra she kept playing at the back of her head, never saying a word of complaint. Sometimes we get punished for doing the right thing. Kiff knew that. She just hoped she could stand the loneliness until they got tired of it.

Oh well. At least there was Andy.

In her navy coveralls and black boots, she headed to the kitchenette in search of him. Sure enough, there he was at the counter, sipping a cup of coffee and leaning over a newspaper.

"Hey Andy, you mind if we take the truck out on a quick errand? I need to - Oy Gevalt! What the hell happened to you?"

Andy gave her a sheepish smile through the scratches on his face. They stretched from his hairline to the left angle of his jaw, three inflamed welts that were deepest across his nose.

"Cat," he said.

"What? Since when do you have a cat?"

"I don't. I mean it's my... um... girlfriend's cat."

"Since when do you have a girlfriend?"

"Look, it was a stupid accident and I'd like to get off it now. Do you mind?"

Seeing Kiff's hurt surprise at his outburst, he forced his expression to soften. "I'm sorry, Kiff. It's just that you're looking at a guy who just got his ass kicked by a ten-pound animal. Kind of embarrassing, you know?"

Kiff smiled, glad to know that he wasn't really mad.

"Don't worry about it. But one more outburst like that and I'll ditch you at the next accident scene," she assured him.

"What's this errand you need to run?"

"I want to swing by the Washington Street bridge and check on Laurie and Janet."

"Who – You mean those hookers that hang out there?"

"Yeah. I promised them a ride to Planned Parenthood sometime this week. I'd like to get that done today."

Andy shook his head. "Kiff, why do you waste your time on those people? They're just going to turn around and screw you."

"I don't know," Kiff said thoughtfully. "Must be because one of them could be the second coming of Christ and God is judging me by how I treat them."

Andy stared at her for a moment, and then shook his head again.

"You're the weirdest Jew I know."

"I'm the only Jew you know. You ready?"

"Yeah, just let me grab my coat."

With Andy on his way to the men's locker room, Kiff headed for the ambulance, intending to warm it up while Andy engaged in his usual dawdling. On her way however, she passed by the station bulletin board and her eye was caught by an item that was tacked there. She stopped. She peered.

Gracing the cork surface was an ID photo of a young woman with long brown hair. Under it was a hastily hand-written note that said 'MISSING. If information, please call City Morgue at...'

"Frink. What's the matter with you?"

Kiff didn't have to break her stare to know who was speaking at her shoulder. It was Mike O., whose surname initial was necessary to distinguish him from all the other Mikes who worked there (nine at the current count, to go with the five Toms, three Johns, and two each of Travis, Mark, and Jeff). This particular Mike had said few words to Kiff in her two years with the company, and most of those were uttered since her return from suspension.

"Mike, where did that picture come from?"

"Some pansy-looking dude came by a few minutes ago, said she would've come by here earlier and he's looking for her now. What's it to you?"

"I-I know her! She... tried to help me."

Mike O. scoffed. "Why don't you take it up with the commish'? I'm sure he'd love to hear from you again."

"You want to discuss something, Olson?"

Mike O. glared at the appearance of Andy at his side. They stared each other down for a while, two alpha males pissing for territory, until Mike O. relented and slunk away toward the coke machine.

"Asshole," Andy muttered. "Come on, Kiff. Let's get out of here."

But Kiff had missed the little display of gallantry, her mind frozen on a single thought.

"Kiff?" Andy tried again, waving a hand in front of her unblinking eyes. "Hellooo?"

"I have to go."

Kiff made a bee-line for the door. So dumbstruck by this proclamation was Andy that she almost made it outside before he dashed after her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! General Custer, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry, Andy. I just really have to go. Now."

"Go? Just go? As in just take off five minutes into the shift? Are you insane???"

"I mean I don't feel well. Tell Tamzarian, will you?"

"Tell him what exactly?"

"I don't know! Tell him I've got projectile leprosy or something."

They were outside now, rapidly nearing the spot where Kiff had locked up her Schwinn.

"Projectile what? All right, that's it." Andy grabbed Kiff's arm and jerked her to a stop. "Tell me what's going on now."

Kiff looked at him with pleading eyes. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I don't understand it myself. It's just a feeling, but –"

"I don't believe this! I risk my reputation standing up for you and your job and you're going to throw it all away on some friggin' woman's intuition?"

"It's not like that!"

"Kiff, listen to me very carefully. I won't be able to help you this time. If you walk out of here now, your career is over. Which part of that is giving you the most trouble?"

Kiff just looked at him with her dark eyes and said in her usual, soft- spoken way: "Andy, you're a good friend. I appreciate everything you've done and everything you've said. But if you don't let go of me right now, I'm going to break your arm."

For some reason he couldn't describe, Andy was absolutely certain that she was telling the truth.

Kiff pulled away from his numb fingers, hopped onto her bike and pedaled off into the drizzle. Andy watched until she disappeared in the traffic of downtown, then released a roar of primal rage and kicked the side of the building with all his might... before he remembered that he wasn't wearing his steel toes.

Tuesday 1:40 pm

"Yes... Yes, I understand that you don't generally start looking for people unless they've been missing for twenty-four hours. It's just that... Yes, I know how to count, but... No, no. I understand. But please call me if you see her. Remember, she's about five-three, a hundred and ten pounds, twenty-two years old, fair skin, long brown hair. And that's Tru Davies. D- A-V-I... Hello?"

Davis sighed, hung up the phone on his desk, and ran a tense hand down his bearded. Tru hadn't shown up for their rendezvous and he was getting frantic. He'd already tried the fire station, her apartment, Harrison's apartment, Lindsay, the coffee shop, the other coffee shop, and finally the police. Their response had been pretty much what he expected, but he thought it was worth a try.

He was just considering whether he should call Lindsay again when the phone rang. He picked it up before the first ring was over.

"Hello, police?"

"Uh, yes, this is Officer Harrison of the social police. I'm calling to tell you that you will suffer a fine of no less that $1000 if you don't get laid some time over the next three months."

"Harrison! Have you seen Tru?"

"No. She's not answering her cell, so I thought I'd try your place. If you see her, could you tell her I'm going out with a friend for a while so I can't help her with this particular rewind day?"

"If you see her, how about telling her to call me and never worry me like this again?"

"Davis, you're snapping at me. You never snap. What's up?"

"I think Tru might be missing."

There was a moment of dead air, and then "Missing."

"She was supposed to meet me and she didn't show. I know I'm probably just getting worked up and my ulcers will pay for it later, but she was talking about drug conspiracies and... and..."

"And what? Davis?"

But Davis was no longer listening. He was looking at the source of the shadow that had just now fallen over his desk.

"Hello, Davis," Jack said.

"... I'm, um... I'll have to call you back, Harrison."

It took Davis several tries to return the phone to its cradle, his wide eyes glued to Jack's smug little smile like a train wreck.

"How are you, boss? I mean, I know you're not my boss anymore, but I can't help it. You were the best boss I ever had. Did I ever tell you that?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Jeez, what's going on lately? Some contagion that prevents people from enjoying small talk? You're a doctor; Have you ever heard of such a thing?"

"I'm sorry, was there an answer in there somewhere?"

"I think you know why I'm here, Davis. Come on, we both know you're the first one Tru tells when she's about to mess with the circle of life, the natural order if you will. I've come to ask respectfully that keep your furry little nose out of it this time."

Davis blinked at him. "Have you been eating a lot of paint chips? 'Cause..."

The phone rang again. Davis looked from it to Jack and back several times. Jack kept his faux-friendly expression.

"Maybe you should get that," said Jack.

Slowly, as though he expected the phone to explode, Davis picked up on the fifth ring.

"Hello?"

"Davis?"

Davis's heart seized on itself. "Tru?"

"You have to get to Kiff before they do! Don't let them –"

Tru's rapid instruction was abruptly cut off, to be replaced with the growling voice of a man.

"Mr. Davis?"

"Doctor Davis. Who is this? Put Tru back on!"

"This is the only time you will hear from me, so listen up: Do exactly what the man in the long coat says, or we will kill the girl. Say you understand."

"Yes! Yes, I understand! Just don't hurt –"

Again, he was left with the dial tone.

"I'm guessing that wasn't a telemarketer," Jack said.

Davis shot to his feet, his ears burning. He'd never wanted to shove a telephone down somebody's throat so much in his life.

"Where is she?"

"She's safe, Davis. God, you worry a lot. It's not good for your stomach, you know."

"So help me, Jack. If anything happens to her –"

"Do you want to hear how to get her back or not?"

Davis took a deep breath to rein in his seldom-used temper.

"That's better," said Jack. "Davis, there are three people who know how this day is supposed to end: Me, Tru, and you. And while I know that Tru is willing to sacrifice herself to see it end differently, I'm guessing you're not willing to sacrifice her. So here's how it's going to go." Jack put his hands on Davis's desk and leaned forward, his gaze inescapable. "You're going to stay away from Kathleen Frink. You're going to refrain from delegating any untoward task to anyone even remotely inclined to believe you, a short list I realize, but I know how to cover my bases. Do these things for me and you may see your assistant alive again."

Jack stood up straight and brushed the wrinkles from his coat.

"Keep this in mind, Davis: Somebody has to die before this is over. I don't want it to be Tru, but if it's not the paramedic, who else is it going to be? Good luck, Doctor. I'll be watching."

He turned and left without waiting for Davis's reaction.

TBC...

Will update soon. Sorry for the lack of our favorite heroine in this installment; There'll be more in the next one. Brownie's honor.