A/N: Hi guys, this busyness will calm down soonish and I'll be back to posting more often but for now, here we are.

I know you've had a tough week, some much tougher and more "orange2 than others, so let's escape into a better(ish) world of doughnuts, baseball caps and jackasses.

As always, enjoy x

Chapter 37: Missed

Sunday 30th October 2016, 4.57pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Autumn had been good to Williamsburg, the unfallen and unswept burnt-orange leaves made the street when Evelyn Magnolia Willie-Mae Taylor-Clement lived (and held court as the VP of the homeowners' association) a warm and inviting place to all. All except her ex-son-in-law who had been stewing all weekend. Even a heated game of spades with his frat brothers or Gina's dancers' legs and the new Maxwell CD couldn't bring him out of the funk. His conspicuous blue 4x4 was spotted by Gregory hours before while his wife busied herself with pointed questions to confirm her grandson wasn't converting to a new religion anytime soon. She wouldn't admit that she thought his girlfriend was gorgeous and a reunion with Bella didn't seem on the horizon anytime soon which was a shame.

"You know this is ridiculous, right?" Gina told him, having brought some toasted sandwiches back from the café on the corner. "Just go up there."

He turned down the radio, seeing as it was too early in the year for Tish Hyman to not want go home for Christmas, and changed the subject. "How was church?"

"Good, they missed you and Pastor Greene said something about a Men's retreat."

Paul drew in a sharp breath when he saw what he'd been waiting for and who. Jackass John was laughing and joking with his son while a fancy car waited at the curb. The duffel bag he bought his son for a trip to Virginia was casually thrown in the backseat. A sharp jab of Gina's elbow hit him in his rib, urging him not to be so prideful. But he wasn't. How could he be when another man pulled a flat purple baseball cap out of his blazer pocket (what the hell is up with those suits anyway?) and put it on his son's head for Joss' group selfie? Jackass. The troubled son he spoke to last week was pulled into an embrace by Gregory who was surely telling him something uplifting as he patted the youngster on the back. Joss was beaming with a smile he hadn't seen in years; the smile she gave him when he apologised for asking for one of their 'breaks' with a teddy bear and a begging-Keith Sweat song on repeat until her sorority sisters convinced her he was sorry enough. He wondered what made her so happy, what she was saying to her mom who was hassling John about something he didn't know what her invite to their new house. Then Evelyn said something that made everyone shake their heads and Taylor gave John a sympathetic look. Paul's stomach turned because that wasn't his family; now then and certainly not now. His legs were weak, too weak to stand on and too weak to drive as Taylor headed off in the expensive town car, back to LaGuardia and back to college. Taylor needed help, time and conversation and all Paul had to offer was money. And so, he missed his chance.

Whatever was going on in his head, Gina didn't understand it. And now more than ever, she needed to know why. "What did Jeremy do to you that's got you so shook?"

Paul couldn't believe she was asking him that. "What?"

"You can what me 'til the end of time, but Taylor won't forget this and you need to fix it. Asap. Like today. Before he gets on that plane." She added for emphasis. The trouble was, she didn't know when times were tough; Paul had the worse sense of timing.

Monday 31st October 2016, 10.08am, 8th Precinct

The colourful donuts all over the Precinct weren't Halloween-themed but they were a gift from the same donor: Jake Rice. Officer Mendoza filled Joss in because he was afraid of her; some tall white guy called Jake Rice stole the Captain's dog and greeted him outside the Precinct the night before when he was wearing a purple baseball cap with a wolf on it they should be out on the lookout for. She didn't care because her partner had called at the crack of dawn to inform her of the 15-year-old who spent the weekend in holding and was headed to juvenile court for assault because although his boxing opponent came back to consciousness over the weekend, the concussion was enough to make his parents press charges against the boxing gym and the New York Independent Young Boxing Association because an illegal move was used against their child. Fusco left out the key piece of information about Frankie's uncle Charlie receiving money in a park after dark because she was so happy about her new house he didn't want to kill her vibe.

With two registered sex offenders with similar abuse offences involving underage boys on their wrap sheets and Elmer's description of a potential suspect in the murder of Jonas "Joey" Newsome, Joss had her hands too full to ask if her son took the offending baseball cap with him to Atlanta and if her man was up to his grown-up misadventures. The former Family Support Coordinator, Dave Prewitt, was moved to an administrative position when clients reported him for "looking at my 12-year-old son funny", "creeping me out", "giving me weird vibes", and "staying too long and asking too many questions". In her research, Joss hadn't found Joey's parents as he was left at a hospital at 3 days old and had a failed adoption at age 7 because he was "too much to handle". His former foster parents were exonerated by DCFS because of their exemplary record so besides calling in the sex offenders for the Rikers' interrogation special, she thought where there was smoke, there must be fire and Dave needed to be brought in asap.

Unbeknownst to her, Capt. Noguerra wasn't going to let go of the dog issue and this prankster Jake Rice anytime soon; especially when John overachieved by launching Phase Four and Five on the same day with an unsigned and unmarked padded envelope with Scout's custom-made pink leather collar with her studded name on it. "Dammit!" He yelled, sending Laz the Police Aide in the opposite direction.

2.20pm, Turner Hall, Emory University

Someone decorated the halls with spider webs, paper pumpkins, card bats and posters for a vampire-themed Halloween rave off campus and Taylor didn't think too much of it because without costumes the real vampire was in his room, trying to extract blood from his victim. But that day, Brock wasn't so willing because Prof. Sleurben succumbed to his pathetic begging not to kick him out of her Calculus class on a one-strike proviso that he couldn't miss another lecture of hers. Hugh wasn't used to hearing the word 'no' and wouldn't accept it so Brock chose his words carefully. Taylor walked in halfway through their strained negotiation. "Are you saying you're more important than R.U.M.M.?" Brock asked, changing his tone somewhat when he saw Taylor. "I mean, there are so many benefits to the work we're trying to achieve."

"I know that, but I can't miss another class or I'll never be a scientist. It's a pre-req."

Hugh's eyes narrowed and Taylor wished he could cold-cock him. "Then you have to decide what you value most. We value you, Brock. Who was there for you when you didn't have any friends, and didn't know your way around town, when you lost your wallet, when you had sick thoughts about your sister's best friend?"

Taylor wanted to tell him to lay off, because like his mom he couldn't tolerate bullies, then he remembered her advice about the "Us vs. Them rhetoric" and how cults worked. So he put on his headphones, powered up his laptop and waited for Hugh to get red enough in the face and too tired to shame him to leave.

"I can't afford to go to school here." Brock's bottom lip quivered.

Hugh looked him up and down. "Then I guess you've made your choice." He looked over at Taylor who was bobbing his head along with Anderson Paak and deleting Bella's messages about the competition since she wasn't shortlisted and wasn't taking it well. "Remember what Jesus said about our friends."

"Hugh, I…" Brock didn't stop him from leaving, but as soon as he did, he wanted Hugh to come back so they could work something out. It was easy for Taylor with his rich city parents and his A-rab girlfriend and his good grades and his stack of calculus notes. Or so he thought. If he asked, and promised not to be a jerk to his girlfriend, Taylor would have offered to help him. But he never asked.

3.55pm, 8th Precinct

Fusco used Interrogation room 6 because it was the least used and was the furthest out of earshot. Not that his partner would have reported him to the higher-ups for slamming Charlie McElroy's face onto the table and bringing it up with a bloody nose; a throwback to his days in HR. "Tell me again you don't know what the money was for. Tell me you don't fix matches."

Charlie tried to realign his nose, which was moot because it wasn't broken. If Fusco wanted to it would've been through his fist. "I don't. It wasn't a fix." He raised his head to stop the blood from running.

"Start talking." Fusco insisted.

"Malcolm. Malcolm Pratt. He said the Kid's been messing with his son for a couple years now. At school, 'round the neighbourhood. So he wanted Billy to get a taste of his own medicine."

"And you told Frankie that?"

"No. I told him to win at any cost. Worst that can happen is he gets disqualified. I know it was wrong. I never thought he'd end up in the hospital. Frankie used to get bullied – before boxing and Taekwondo, Judo, Karate, Capoeira…"

"I get it."

"Sooooooooo…Frankie's getting out."

Fusco couldn't believe this guy. "Frankie's going to Juvie if the Judge says so. And as for you, I want deets of everyone who's ever paid you for Frankie's services or I'm booking you for Child Endangerment." He slid a notebook and pen across the table. "Starting now."

8.11pm, Joss' apartment, New York

Joss wasn't the lingerie type and considering John wasn't gentle enough with silk or lace and had a habit of tearing through buttons, she was confident John would like her in his favourite team's t-shirt and heels to celebrate their new place but she never got a chance to find out because she got a phone call that killed her buzz completely. "Hello?"

"Jocelyn." She didn't recognise the grainy, gruff voice on the other end of the line. "How you been?"

"Who is this?" She asked, hoping it wasn't Elias using vocal distortion and calling her for a special favour in exchange for some valuable information.

"Jeremy."