Chapter 4

Torres stood in the doorway to the lab and looked around, catching Loker's eye. He waved her over to where he sat, and she made her way past the few grad students that were working on extracting data from the soccer interviews and a few other cases that were ongoing.

She reached into her pocket and took out a bundle of memory cards and placed them on the desk where Loker sat.

"Turns out the Raptors coaches record their games to analyse their performance. Would have been nice if they'd told us that to start with, but we've got footage from the goalkeeping coach, defence, mid-field, and forwards."

Loker reached for the first card in the pile and inserted it into the card reader at his desk. "Sweet," he said, "Let's hope they recorded faces and not just feet."

Ria nodded with false nonchalance and began to sway side to side a little. Eli, of course, did not take the hint that she wanted to talk about something. She would have to just dive right in. She looked around to make sure nobody was listening and asked, "So. Who's the judge?"

"What?"

"The judge. Foster's case that's not a case."

"I have no idea."

"Aren't you a little curious?"

"Nope.

"I mean, they're being so secretive about it. It must be something."

"Something that has nothing to do with me. Are they being secretive? Or are they just not telling you everything that goes on around here?"

"If it was nothing big, they'd tell us what was going on, don't you think?"

"Maybe. I don't know. They don't tell me anything."

"That's not true."

"If it's personal, let it be."

"Is it personal?"

Loker was beginning to lose patience now, "I don't know, Torres. If they want us to know, they'll tell us. And if it's something we need to know, we'll figure that out and find out anyway."

"Oh come on, Loker!" she stage whispered, "Aren't you even a little bit curious?"

"Just google him if you're that curious. What was his name?"

"I did google him," she said moving in front of the computer and typing something into the keyboard, "here. Judge Neil Taylor." She clicked the mouse a few times and pointed to the image that appeared on the screen. "Federal Judge based out of San Fernandino, California."

"Huh," said Loker.

"What?"

"Foster is originally from California. Her maiden name was Taylor."

"How do you know that?"

"Read some papers she did in college before she got married. You should read them, pretty interesting stuff."

Turner walked up behind them silently and unnoticed in their distraction.

"Why are you two looking up pictures of Foster's dad online?"

The pair gasped and jumped, Loker scrambled to close the browser window with panicked motions and bring up the video footage that they were supposed to be reviewing. They spun around to face him then with shocked bewilderment.

"Wait, you know who that is?"

"Yeah, why? And why are you two stalking Gillian's dad?"

"How do you know that's Foster's dad?"

He took a bite of the banana he held and took his time chewing it. When he swallowed the small bite of his snack he simply replied, "She had a photo of him up in her place before she moved out. Now you."

Ria released the breath she was holding in reserve and leaned towards him as if letting him in on a conspiracy. "He's here."

Mark Turner could not have looked any less concerned. Ria stared at him, waiting for him to react like it was the big deal that she thought it was. Nothing. Mark quirked his smile sideways and raised one eyebrow as though waiting for a big revelation. When none came, he shrugged his shoulders with indifference and took another bite of his food. He turned then to the computer monitor that was playing out the soccer match they were supposed to be investigating.

"Those two look pretty happy to see a bunch of guys puking on the sidelines."


Cal looked through the glass of Gillian's office door to see her alone in the office and sat behind her desk typing away. Certain that he wasn't going to be interrupting family time, he barged right in without knocking.

"Ready to head out?"

Gillian looked down to the clock on her computer screen and realised that it was starting to get late.

"Yeah, nearly. I better go fix my make-up and then we can go," she replied. As she finished her sentence, she turned her office chair towards him and noticed he had changed his clothing. Her face broke into a wide grin. "Did you go home and change into a suit?"

"Yeah," he answered in an attempt at coolness.

"Why?"

"We're going to dinner."

"We went to dinner last week and you wore that awful stripey polo shirt and baggy worn out jeans."

"Awful? That's one of my favourite shirts, that is."

"It's a favorite because it's baggy and comfortable, not because it looks good."

"Do you want me to go and get changed again?" he said petulantly.

"I want you to admit you went home to change into a suit to impress an authority figure."

"You take that back."

She just smirked at him and retrieved her make-up bag from her purse.

"I just want to look presentable, that's all."

"Cal, it's sweet. But he might not even show."

"You still expect him to disappoint you, don't you?"

"No. Because I don't get my hopes up anymore," she said with a bittersweet smile. She lightly ran her hand across his stomach as she moved passed him to the door. "I'll just be a couple of minutes, then we can head out."


She had chosen a restaurant within walking distance of the offices so that they wouldn't have to worry about traffic or parking. It was still early in the evening, and the sun was only beginning its journey towards the horizon in the late spring sky.

The two of them walked hand in hand at a meandering pace. Despite what she had claimed only a couple of hours ago, this was one of many changes they had made since they decided to move their relationship beyond the platonic. Before, he would sporadically bump into her, pull at her arm, or wrap his arm around her waist and drag her towards him. And they would walk comfortably together, hip to hip, occasionally jostling and then they would let go before it became too obviously intimate. Arguably, walking with arms slung low around each other's waists was a display of intimacy that platonic friends typically would not show. But for them, it had been a standard. A show of how comfortable they were with one another. How close they were in almost every way. Every way but one.

Now though, now they held hands. For most couples this wouldn't be such a big deal. For most couples walking hip to hip, arms gripping tightly to one another, that would be the public display of love and lust that proved the big shift in the dynamic of their bond. But for Cal and Gillian, holding hands was the barrier that had been broken. It was new and it was intimate, and it was the one gesture that made their hearts skip a beat every time they felt the other initiate the contact.

It was true that their transition had been seamless once they had gotten over the first couple of hurdles of a new type of relationship. Essentially, they were friends – admittedly closer than most – and now they were friends who slept together, exclusively. The physicality had certainly deepened the love they felt for each other. But it wasn't that they loved each other more, rather that they loved each other more completely; and without the guilt of desperately trying to hold it secret from one another. Truth and happiness. Who knew?

They stepped into the restaurant together, both looking around to see if their intended dinner guest was there already. The maître d' showed them to their table, and they took their seats. They talked comfortably together but despite the fact that they had been early, Gillian constantly checked her phone for the time, then checked the door and looked through the window they had been seated near for any sign of her father.

"He'll be here, Gill. It's not like when you were a kid anymore."

Just as she opened her mouth to half-heartedly agree with him, she spotted her father come through the door. Her visible relief was countered in equal measure by the sinking apprehension that burst within Cal's stomach. It had been over eighteen years since he had to have the meeting of the parent dinner. At least this time it wasn't to announce an unplanned pregnancy. Cal took a deep breath and turned to greet the older man as he arrived at their table with a friendly and familiar smile. Cal stood to greet him, and Neil looked at him like he was insane.

"You know that you only have to stand when a Judge enters a court room, right?" he joked.

Cal tried not to look chastised and smiled to concede the point. He knew he was being weird. He knew he was not being himself. He was actively trying not to be himself. He was terrified that his latent anti-authority defences would awaken at any moment.


They ordered mains only, skipping the starters knowing that Neil had to head off for his next engagement. The governor wanted him to network at a few events that evening and early the following day in order to get his face out there in preparation for a possible announcement should he be deemed suited to the state supreme court.

They made small talk for a while. Gillian and Cal talked about how the business was doing mostly. Neil talked about some of the cases he had tried recently. Eventually they ran out of inconsequential things to say, and the brief pauses began to extend into awkward silences.

This was apparently the signal that Gillian's father had been waiting for to turn the conversation towards the cliché.

"So. Cal. Tell me about yourself."

Cal hoped he hadn't actually rolled his eyes and sighed out the elongated 'uugghhh' that he had just thought. He looked at Gillian to see if he was in trouble, and when she smiled at him sympathetically he figured he was in the clear. Mental anguish only.

Cal sat up slightly straighter in his seat, bracing himself for the conversation he usually relished being on the other side of.

"What would you like to know?"

"How did you meet my daughter?"

Cal swallowed reflexively. This wasn't going to sound good.

"Dad, you know how we met."

"I want to hear his version."

"Why?" she pushed.

Neil looked to her then, where before he had been staring at Cal in the manner that Cal usually stared at a suspect. "You were her patient, right?" he asked Cal, all the while looking at his daughter.

"Umm, not quite. No. Not exactly."

"What then?" Neil asked him directly, his determined focus once again on Cal.

"Well… hmmm," he took an audible breath inwards and continued, "She was assigned to give me a psychological evaluation," he said, gesturing with an unconscious slow waving motion with his hand. Then added, "to see if I was mentally stable, to do my job."

Cal looked over at Gillian with a slight smirk and continued, "I'm not sure if she's ever managed to get an answer to that one, actually."

Gillian laughed at the joke, but her father remained impassive. Both Cal and Gillian settled their humor but neither could quite wipe the remnants of their smiles away immediately.

"Isn't this relationship contrary to the ethics of patient and therapist guidelines?" he asked as though he were grilling a defendant in court, channelling his state prosecutor days.

"Dad, come on. I was never his therapist. And we've known each other for almost a decade now."

"We've been friends for almost 9 years. Run a business together for 8 of them. We've been past the psych evaluation for a while now," Cal insisted.

"And how many of them have you been trying to get into her pants?"

Gillian's lightly exclaimed, "Dad!" was almost drowned out by the furious glare that Cal directed at the man. Anyone could see that Cal was fighting the urge to react physically to the words. His fist was clenched, his teeth ground against each other, and there was a vein at the side of his forehead that was just beginning to make itself known.

Cal was doing his best to find the words that would show this man that he wouldn't tolerate anyone speaking of his relationship with Gillian in that manner, but also wouldn't lead to an all-out brawl with him. Just as he was about to try to speak with deadly calm, Neil relaxed his shoulders and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry," he began. "I just wanted to see what kind of reaction that would get."

Cal was dumbfounded.

"Thirty five years of practicing law," he explained. "Almost forty of being a father. And a lot of those years being a pretty terrible father, to be honest," he continued with a mawkish glance at Gillian for his last words.

Before Gillian could falsely defend him, Neil continued. "I just want to make sure that you have her best interests at heart."

Cal was stunned. He looked at Gillian, who looked similarly at a loss of what to say, and then back to her father. "Did you just try to read me?" he finally said, unable to keep the elated smile from his face.

"I wouldn't say that. I was pushing you to react. See what you're made of."

"I'm made of fury and bad decisions mostly," Cal joked, then realised how that might sound and hastily tried to amend himself, "but Gillian isn't a bad decision! I mean, me and Gillian. We're a great decision," he finished limply and turned to Gillian for support.

Support was not forthcoming. Gillian looked baffled.

"I'm going to use the restroom," she finally said. She stood and excused herself from the table and tried not to feel bad about leaving Cal alone with her father looking like he was begging for a lifeline.

When she was out of earshot, Neil returned his gaze from his daughters retreating form to her partner. He stared at him in contemplation, silently. It was unnerving. Cal was used to being the most dominant figure in a room, with the rare and occasional exception of Gillian, Emily, and Zoe, depending on the situation. This was completely foreign to him. And the worst part was that he knew he had to play nice.

The two men stared at each other uncomfortably for a minute. It was once again Neil who broke the silence, but not the discomfort.

"She didn't tell me about you two," he said.

Cal looked down and nodded his head miserably.

"I mean, I knew you existed, obviously," her father went on. "She talked about you more than her own husband." Cal's eyes shot back up at this. "Who, by the way, she also didn't tell me about until after they got engaged."

Cal's only reply was a surprised raising of his eyebrows.

"Yeah. It's a trend, you know? My own fault really."

"What do you mean?"

"Gillian, not telling me things about her life. About the big stuff. It's my fault. I wasn't there for any of the big stuff when she was little. Hell, I wasn't even there when she was born."

The nod of familiarity told Neil that Cal was at least familiar with this part of their story.

"I missed everything. And then when I eventually got my act together, she was so used to me disappointing her that she stopped telling me things. Stopped inviting me to things. She was so worried that I'd disappoint her. She didn't tell me when she was graduating high school a year early. I found out from a friend, showed up without her inviting me. She told me she was moving out east a couple of weeks before she left. She never told me about Alec. Not until a month before the wedding. Said that I was welcome to be there if I was free."

"And did you go?"

"Yeah. I really think she thought I wouldn't. I cleared my schedule, handed off some cases. Left a lot of people really pissed off. But I made it…"

"She said you didn't like Alec."

"He was an ass," Neil exclaimed, causing Cal to laugh and smile, and nod in agreement.

"Yes, he was."

He could see that Cal had more questions. He could guess what the biggest one was.

"And then. Then I promised to come out and meet Sophie as soon as I could get time away. My only grandchild, from my only child. I swore I wasn't going to miss the big occasions in her life the way I missed them in Gillian's. But I was in the middle of a big trial when they adopted her. Lasted months. And then, she was gone. I never got to meet her. And that was one last disappointment for Gillian. She retreated from me completely. Phone calls at Christmas and birthdays only."

"She retreated from everyone, for a while."

"Not you."

"I wouldn't let her."

"No. You wouldn't," he uttered the words with reverent admiration for Cal. "But, for me. That was it. She stopped telling me things. We were doing ok before, you know? Talking more on the phone, all that… you know she didn't tell me she got divorced until a few months later when I called at Christmas and asked how the jerk was doing?"

Cal did not know that. She mentioned her father on occasion. She rarely let on how deep her issues with her childhood went. He knew the basics, of course. But Gillian was always respectful of the man her father was now and brushed over the shell of a man he was when she was a young child. She tended to focus on the positives.

Their talk was interrupted by the return of its subject as Gillian retook her seat and looked between the two men to assess where they now stood with each other. Both greeted her return with a loving smile, and Cal decided he would be the one to change the topic.

"Gillian tells me you're in line for a hell of a promotion," he said to Neil, and the conversation moved on.