1.04 - Hot & Bothered
Skipping ahead some, we're into August and it's hot and Vivian has to wear a cotton poly blend.
Sniffing her uniform pants in the locker room, Vivian sighed.
"That's creepy, Peck," Jenny remarked.
"I've washed it every day this week. They still smell. I think the sweat is ground in." She sighed again and pulled them on.
Jenny laughed. "That's what you get for chasing that guy."
At the start of the week, Vivian had chased down a pick pocket. The hustle had been much applauded the next day at parade, but Vivian swore her uniforms still reeked of sweat. Hadn't Gail threatened death once on the inventor of the uniforms? They did suck. "You should be glad I don't play your game, Aronson," joked Vivian.
Lara elbowed her. "Are you wearing spandex under your pants, Peck?"
Vivian looked down. "The pants chafe."
The other two women shared a look. "I can't tell if you're a genius or insane," said Lara at length.
"Well. I'm a Peck. In general, the answer is both." She pulled her shirt on and buttoned it up before tucking it in.
As she zipped her fly, McNally came in, still in her civvies. "Peck, Dov wants to see you in his office."
"Now?" She blinked and grabbed her gear belt.
"Now. Leave the belt."
That didn't sound good. Vivian hung her belt up and closed her locker, clipping her tie on as she hustled to Dov's office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"
Her sergeant was typing on his laptop furiously. "Close the door."
And that sounded worse. "Sir?"
"I need a favor." He closed the laptop and looked up at her. "Can you take a squad to ThirtyFour and pick up Chris?"
Chris. His son? She blinked. "Chris who I used to babysit? He's at ThirtyFour?" Division ThirtyFour was the third leg in the triad of Divisions where Gail oversaw Organized Crimes. Fifteen was smack in the middle, the numerical position of which had always confounded Holly. The only person Vivian really knew from ThirtyFour was Det. Anderson, who was annoying but amusing.
"He's in lockup. They agreed to sign him to anyone from Fifteen. Pick him up, bring him here, and then look the other way when I kill him."
Well. That was bad and not her fault. "Are you asking me as Uncle Dov or my boss?"
That surprised Dov. "Why?"
"Because one's an abuse of power and one's going to make my moms laugh at dinner."
Dov scowled. "This feels like a lose-lose situation for me."
"Generally speaking, that's how it goes with Pecks." She smiled and fixed her tie. "What did Chris do?"
"Possession. He says its not his."
Given how Chris nearly shat himself the last time he got caught with drugs, Vivian would have no problem believing that. "It's probably not, you know."
Dov shook his head. "I don't know. And he won't tell me." He looked at Vivian carefully. "I'm hoping the weirdo he looks up to might wheedle that out of him."
In surprise, Vivian pointed at herself. "Chris looks up to me?"
"He has a crush on you," grinned Dov.
"Ew. Still gay. Also he's still jail bait, and I used to babysit him, so double and triple ew." She shuddered.
He smiled at her. "Vivian, weird daughter of my best friend, and please don't tell Gail I said that. I need a favor from you as your beloved Uncle Dov who let you practice shooting. Please pick my son up and find out what the hell he was doing with a dime bag of weed?"
Vivian sighed. She knew what her moms would do. Gail would bitch and moan and then bend over backwards to help a friend. Holly wouldn't hesitate and would give Gail a look for even the false protests. She knew why Dov overreacted about weed, too. His brother Adam had died of an overdose long before Vivian was born. On top of that, Chris Diaz had been in NA the whole time she'd known him. There was only thing to say. "What cruiser?"
"1503."
"I will hold this over you one day, Uncle Dov."
Dov looked relieved. "Thank you. Don't worry about your assignment today. When you get back, we'll sort it out."
As long as she wasn't stuck on foot patrol on the hottest day of the year, it would be okay. "Fine, but you will owe me."
"You are your mother's daughter."
"Thank you," she laughed and went back to the lockers to grab her gear and collect her boss's kid.
Frankly it was better, and less aggravatingly hot, than being outside. It gave her time to think about the shit with Liv at least. After a week of phone tag, she'd finally gotten an hour with Matty to talk about the whole thing. While he lived miles and miles away in New York, they still talked and texted all the time. They were as close as they'd been since he'd been beaten up in school, distance or not. It constantly confounded Gail, who watched them pick up the middle of conversations after weeks of not talking.
Usually Matty was on Vivian's side with stupid things like kissing girls. And as soon as she told him she hadn't kissed back, he was supportive of her. But his advice was to keep her lips the hell away from Liv until she wanted to talk. It was good advice, and she stuck by it, made easier since Olivia was avoiding her.
Girls were so confusing. At least she was just going to pick up a teenager who had a mild crush on her. Boys like Chris were super easy. Smile at them and they'd do almost anything. Now all she had to do was figure out what the kid had done, and either tell Dov or steer Chris safe. Probably steering. Dov had a habit of overreacting about drugs, which was understandable and justifiable, but it always made Chris stubborn and recalcitrant.
Oh. Family.
The smell of her work rarely bothered her. It wasn't that she'd gone nose blind either. Holly just didn't mind the smell of death, decomposition, or anything of those ilk. Smells were smells. Anyone who spent any time in the morgue was used to that and was prepared for it.
Of course, the rookies needed warnings. Well. The rookie.
After giving the the usual lecture on how to deal with the lab, she picked up a jar of lemon scented Vaseline. "If the smell gets to be too bad swipe this under your nose."
Officer Volk, whom Vivian had described as being observant and clever, looked worried. "It can smell worse?"
McNally laughed. "Oh you have no idea. We had a liquefied body once, splashed all over Peck and Price."
Smiling fondly, Holly put the jar down by them. "How do you always remember those things?"
"We're cops," noted McNally, swiping some Vaseline on her upper lip. "Trust me here, Volk. If Dr. Stewart breaks out the jar, you want it."
Quickly Volk took a finger full and swiped her lip. "Peck?"
"Not your Peck," explained the older cop. "We have a lot of them."
As she pulled on her gloves, Holly asked, "How's that donut fine going?"
"Wait that's a real thing?" Volk startled. "Peck- Vivian said you had to have at least one Peck in every division."
Holly laughed. Years ago, back before they'd been parents, Gail had made the joke about the donut fine. Since then all the Pecks had found it so hilarious, they'd enforced it. "Really? You let her get away with that, Andy?"
"It's not like we actually have a lot of control of her."
Well. That was to be expected. "How's she really doing?"
"Except the part where Dov's always on her case to know everything, pretty good. She's off running some mystery errand for him this morning."
That seemed unfair. Shaking her head, Holly picked up a pair of tweezers. "I'm sorry... How do you know ... You're talking about Vivian Peck?" Volk looked absolutely lost.
Holly glanced up. "Oh. She's my daughter. Apparently when you're a Peck, you end up a cop, even if your mother's the chief medical examiner." The expression on Volk's face was close to a shocked fish. She was startled and confused even more than she had been before. Those Pecks and their games. Gail and Vivian were still enjoying keeping it a secret, and far be it from Holly to spoil their fun. "I didn't change my name when I got married."
Nodding as if she was starting to understand, Volk kept her mouth closed tightly. This was a smart one. "Sorry," chuckled McNally. "I've know the doc for ... Twenty years now? She came to my wedding."
"And we threw the divorce party," noted Holly. Though mostly because they had the biggest backyard. "So. Where did you find this guy?"
At McNally's jostle, Volk pulled her notepad out. "Junkyard. He was... The owner ... Um. What parts are important?"
"Don't care about motive. Set the scene for me," Holly smiled. She did care about motive in the long run. Just not right now.
Volk did a good job not puking as they went over the remains, explaining what happened. A head, torso, one arm and one leg. The body had been chewed up by a car crusher. Apparently he'd not quiet been dead, but the man working the yard had realized someone was in the car too late. Holly explained how you could tell from the injuries and the motor oil what had happened and when and where.
And she could tell that the man was already dead, so no they had not ground up a living person. "Wait, the owner said he heard the guy." Volk scowled.
"People hear things all the time," McNally noted. "It could have been metal, and as soon as he saw blood, his brain decided it was a person. How do you know he was dead before he was crushed, Doc?"
"The blood," smiled Holly. "Exsanguination post mortem rarely occurs when the body is no longer pumping blood out. It can coagulate, though not particularly quickly on hot days like we've had this month. The way it's collected in his body, such as it is, tells me he's been dead a couple days."
Of course, Andy knew that. She was asking on Volk's behalf like a good TO. "Can you tell how he died?"
"Curiously yes. Someone crushed in his skull." She tilted the head and showed them the back. "Rather squishy."
There was a thud and Holly stood to look over the table. "One vomit, one passed out. Viv's screwing our score. We'll never get a clean sweep," sighed Andy. "I can't believe she snuck in."
Holly smiled and sat back on her stool. "Ah, the good old days when I though my child might have a bright career in the sciences."
"She got that degree in engineering." Andy went and got a damp towel and patted Volk's face with it. "Do you still keep smelling salts down here?"
When Holly told the story to Gail at lunch, her wife laughed. "Damn, I had Volk pegged as strong one. How'd Christian do?" They were enjoying a nice meal on the couch in Holly's office, overlooking the steaming city.
Taking a bite of salad, Holly waggled a hand. "Wanda said he threw up after. Guys try so hard to not puke in front of pretty girls."
"Wanda's still a lesbian cougar hunter," chuckled Gail. "It's weird how many people we know are lesbians."
"Wanda's an equal opportunity cougar hunter," smiled Holly. "She went after Swarek once."
"Ew... And now I'm not hungry."
"Oh so I can have your avocados?" Holly reached over with her fork and Gail scowled, moving her bowl away. Laughing, Holly reached over again and stole a kiss and an avocado slice.
Gail sighed dramatically. "You're lucky I love you, Dr. Stewart." She smiled brightly when Holly transferred an avocado from her bowl to Gail's. "Thank you, baby."
They leaned against each other, comfortable. "What errand for Dov was our kid running?" When Gail didn't answer right away, Holly added, "Andy leaked."
"Damn her, my weak link," muttered Gail. "Little Chris got caught with weed. Dov... Well you know why." She did. She had heard the story from Dov when explaining why Chris' middle name was Adam. "He asked Viv to pick him up and try to get the story out of him."
Holly snorted. "Well that's stupid." Like Steve, Vivian hoarded her secrets well and never shared them. "She won't tell him anything."
Slipping her arm around Holly's waist, Gail hummed. "I suspect that's why he asked her. Part of him doesn't want to know." Holly knew that was likely. It was one of the many agreements and deals the parents did for each other. Friends helped with each other's kids. "Speaking of, Olivia's dodging my calls. Think our kid pissed her off?"
"Ever think she's just ditching you, oh humble one? The awkwardness of talking to her ex-girlfriend's mom who is rather intense..." Holly smiled and kissed Gail's cheek. "How long do you have?"
Gail checked her watch. "Not much. Judge Wu is like a clock. He said he'd have a decision by 1pm."
Taking Gail's wrist, Holly eyed the time. "No time, honey. There's construction on Dunn." She patted Gail's leg. "Skedaddle, wife. I'll see you tonight?"
Her wife got up and leaned in for a real kiss. "If I get out early enough, I'll make dinner."
Holly smiled. "Wednesday." Predictably, Gail grimaced. "Batting cages and Vietnamese food."
"I do find your buns lovely," sang Gail as she left Holly's office. She also left the dishes for Holly to clean up. That was her wife alright, sighed Holly.
Maybe she should have told Dov what Chris had said. That was Vivian's only explanation for why he'd stuck her with Duncan Moore and tasked them with investigating junkyards. Which meant on foot, outside, in August. And it smelled. Asshat.
But. She'd promised Chris she wouldn't tell his parents the story, politely asked the Pecks at ThirtyFour not to press charges, and dragged him back to Fifteen. Vivian would have to sort that out later. Because just dealing with the avoidance of Olivia wasn't enough. Sometimes life loved dumping shit on you. It had been the right thing to do, too, what Chris had done. They weren't his drugs, and for fuck's sake it was weed. He did give her the names so Vivian could later stop by the school and scare the shit out of the kids.
Duncan fell loudly, jarring her out of her thoughts. "Damn this place is filled with junk." He had been clambering over the cars, screwing around and basically doing the things that made Gail call him Gerald. Still.
"Its a junkyard, Duncan," she muttered, looking around and tugging at her collar. They had to look for bodies since Lara and Andy had found a dumper in a car being crushed that morning, not five minutes into patrol. That meant as soon as she rolled back to Fifteen, Vivian was stuck with Moore and a junkyard while Lara got a rush job on an autopsy because the car happened to be one in a car accident of a semi-famous actor the year before. Yay.
"That's Moore to you," the older officer grumbled.
Smiling, Vivian snapped off a salute. "Yes sir, Officer Moore, sir." She paused. "You've got something on your pants."
Swearing as he brushed his pants off, Duncan shook his leg. "Do you have something to wipe it off with?" He stared at his hands, coated in something nasty. And smelly, even from this distance. "This shit is gross."
"Nasty, no. Maybe the owner does." She wrinkled her nose. It was really smelly. That smelled like ... That smelled like Holly after a nasty case, before she got the lemon scented soap out. The smell-memory caused her to stop in her tracks. "What were you climbing on?"
"That 'cuda," waved Duncan.
A green Barracuda. Why did they always paint them green? She walked over to the Plymouth and spotted a boot print on the bumper. "That's not right," she muttered. "Hey, Dun- Moore. You wear normal shoes, right?"
"What?" He looked confused.
"Standard issue patrol shoes," she snapped, impatiently.
Duncan startled. "You sound like your mom."
"Duncan," growled Vivian.
"What? Yes, standard issue shoes. What does that have to do with this crap on my leg."
"It's organic, Duncan," she told him and lifted her foot to double check. That was not the same print. "It's evidence, too. Don't brush it off." Pulling out her phone, she took a photo and then dug a glove out of her thigh pocket. "I'm so going to regret this," she muttered and opened the door to the half smashed 'cuda.
The smell of rotting corpse. In August. Jesus. For the first time since putting on the uniform, Vivian's stomach roiled. That was disgusting.
"Holy crap," muttered Duncan, coming up behind her. "Dispatch, 4271 this is officer Moore. We got a 10-45. Same type as this morning."
Dispatch crackled on both the radios. "4271, dispatch. Can you confirm, the MO?"
Duncan looked at Vivian. "Check his head?"
She nodded and pulled the glove on, reaching in. Instinct had her checking the pulse first. Then she touched the back of his head. Ew. Ew. Ew. "Yeah. Head bashed in," Vivian said quietly and moved away from the car.
They were still there when the forensics team showed up. Headed by none other than her mother. "Officers," greeted Holly, eying Vivian carefully.
"Doc," greeted Duncan, looking miserable. Vivian could understand that. She was just hot and annoyed. "Where do ya want my pants?"
Holly blinked. "Excuse me? Duncan, why do I want your pants?"
"Oh. Sorry. They're evidence." He pulled at the side of his pants. "Got ... What'd you call it, Peck?"
"Organic." Vivian held up an evidence bag with a rubber glove in it. "There's a footprint on the bumper and prints on the handle. I took photos and I used the edge of the handle when I opened the door."
Taking the bag, Holly smiled. "Same head injury?"
At that, Vivian shrugged. "It matches the description. Back of the head smashed."
Snapping her gloves on, Holly sighed. "That's all we have." Over the years, Holly had worked dozens of cases with the back of the head bashed in. All took place near cars, all unsolved. Two decades and no one had made sense of the case. Sometimes her moms would talk about it, how it was frustrating.
Holly opened the door and tilted her head. The head was on the far side of the car. Vivian could reach it easily. But Holly glanced back at Vivian, who was standing with her hands in her pockets, trying to exude the casual cop vibe of her blonder mother. There was something weird about Holly's expression as her eyes traversed Vivian from sole to top of her head.
Sometimes Vivian forgot that she was just over two inches taller than Holly's 5'9", a hair under being actually six feet. Those two inches of reach made a big difference. Her mother couldn't reach the back of the guy's head, while she could.
"Something wrong, boss?" Holly's assistant sounded worried.
"Can we get to the other side? I can't reach in without disturbing evidence."
The assistant looked surprised. "But the cop..." He looked at Vivian and blinked. "Oh. Huh. Can we?"
"I didn't check," admitted Vivian. "I cleared the scene, but I wasn't looking for easy access." She had done her best to make sure everything was safe. The last thing Vivian wanted was for Gail to yell at her about putting Holly in danger.
Holly shrugged. "We're going to have to bring the car anyway. Okay, let's get some evidence collected. Duncan, take your pants off and bag 'em. We've got some scrubs. Shoes too. Viv-" And Holly paused. "Vivian, do you have anything on you?"
"No, ma'am," replied Vivian with a smile. Her mother had been deliberating on what to call her. "He has a tuque."
"In August?" Holly looked amused and glanced at Duncan, who was in short sleeves. So was Vivian for that matter. Only Gail made a point to never wear short sleeves in uniform, but she also had two colors: vampire and lobster.
Vivian nodded. "Kinda weird, right? He's warm, but that doesn't mean anything."
Her mother laughed. "Hardly." Holly directed her minions around while Vivian radioed in the update. It was novel to watch her mother work. She'd seen Gail at work a few times, but Holly in the field was new and enlightening.
Field work of this sort was cool and interesting. Holly zoned out and was completely invested in the body, checking lividity and stiffness. She took samples and recorded information into her phone. The few times Vivian had been allowed to watch Holly work, it had been lab work. Watching the various machines scan things and the way her mother read them and understood them so quickly was amazing. It was even more impressive to see it in person. Holly was scientific brilliance distilled in human form.
Taking her own phone out, Vivian took a photo of Holly and sent it to Gail.
The forensic tech, LaFaire, came up to her. "Hey, little Peck. Money, drugs, and now a DB? Fun times!"
"You know me, LaFaire. Nothing but fun." She gripped her belt and shifted her weight, trying to project an aura of calmness and reliability. "How long do you think he's been dead? I mean, he smells."
"He was closed up in a car," laughed LaFaire. "Besides, that's the Doc's area of expertise. I'm collection." The man stepped up to the car. "Hey, Dr. Stewart. Ready for me?"
Holly backed out. "Start with under the car, please." Stiffly, Holly stretched and watched as LaFaire started to collect evidence from under the car.
It wasn't until nearly sunset that Vivian made it back to the station. Duncan had gone back with Rich, leaving Vivian with Kellerman, one of the myriad TOs who cropped up in the years Gail had been upstairs. He wasn't so bad, but he'd talk your ear off and was always drinking protein shakes.
Escaping Kellerman, Vivian pulled her phone out to check on her parents. The text from Gail said they were at the batting cages and Vivian should meet them there for a round and dinner.
"Right," she laughed. "It's Wednesday."
McNally poked her head around the lockers. "Wednesday night is batting cages? Still?"
"Still," smiled Vivian. "And Vietnamese food after, if we eat out." They were a model of consistency.
"I can drop you off there. It's on my way home."
"That'd be awesome, thank you," she exhaled. "I keep thinking it's cool to come to work with Mom and then I get stuck."
Laughing, McNally nodded her understanding. "She was always talking boys into driving her home."
Weird to think of Gail as dating men. She shook her head, trying not to think of Gail being romantic with Nick or anyone else besides Holly. It was just weird. "I guess they're simpler..."
"She was straight back then," smirked Andy, toweling her hair dry. "Going to grab a shower here?"
Vivian plucked at her uniform shirt. "No, not if I'm going to the cages," she decided. She was just going to get sweaty again. Giving her uniform a sniff test, Vivian winced. They needed another wash. Whomever came up with the cotton-poly blend needed to die. Preferably slowly and painfully while wearing said blend.
"These are not your leftovers," muttered Steve, sniffing the Tupperware.
"Are too," countered Gail. "My mini fridge, my food. Perks of the office, brother dearest."
"I mean this isn't your cooking." He closed the box and put it back. "If I'm raiding your fridge for lunch, I should get your cooking, little sister."
Gail smiled and scratched her chin. "Sorry, it was batting night."
Her brother sat down on the couch, smiling. "I can't believe Holly still gets you to do that."
"There are bennies to being married to a sporty lady."
Even though she was capable at sports, Gail encouraged Holly's corrections on her stance and swing. Mostly because it meant she had Holly's arms around her. And after the cages, they'd shower and Gail could massage Holly's back and shoulders, rubbing in lotion and listening to her wife complain about getting old.
Not that Gail would tell Holly that she enjoyed the batting cages, but she did sometimes. She liked the day of the week where her family got together to do something they all did enjoy. They didn't always make it out. While Gail never missed a week of shooting, not even when she'd broken her ribs or her hand, the batting cages had sometimes lost to cases or school or illness.
That week, however, they had all managed to get there. Vivian had made it not too late, catching a ride from Andy. She had a fun tale to tell about Gerald losing his pants, which Holly embellished as he'd been stuck with her as evidence for hours while Vivian got to supervise the extraction.
The case itself was annoying and likely to go on Holly's list of unsolved head bashings. Three or five times a year, it cropped up again. They'd never solved it. They never had any leads. Someone would be dead, in a hat no matter the weather, with their head bashed in, near a car.
It was quite maddening.
It also was not the case she and her brother were working on. She propped her feet on her desk and asked him, "What's the status on the Hill takeover?"
Steve grimaced. "Pretty much locked up. Since Chloe picked up that idiot Arana, we got more information on the situation. The botched deal at the apartment, the one those rooks were supposed to be watching, it was their last ploy."
"They're that hard up?"
"Lost a lot of their territory to Three Rivers in the last five years."
Gail scowled. "How did we miss that?"
"They didn't do it the usual ways. They've been slowly picking up smaller gangs, folding them in without putting their name on things. Wasn't till this last year they came out of the shadows and consolidated."
That was incredibly brilliant. "Are they being run by some businessman?"
Steve laughed. "I think so, actually. The Anton Hill takeover is ... Well. It's smart. They get the territory and the drug access."
"Can't believe they're doing that again." She put her feet down and fired up her laptop. "Who's in charge?"
"And that's my problem, sister. Not a damn clue. Arana rolled over on Hill's folks but he's as smart as a bag of wet hair." Gail laughed at him and Steve smiled. "I need your okay to ship him off to Manitoba for a while."
Protection. She nodded. "Sure. Paperwork?"
"Send it when I get downstairs."
They both sighed. "Okay. What are your next steps?"
Steve ran a hand through his grey, thinning, hair. "Follow my leads to find the new home base of Three Rivers. See if I can follow them upstream. They've been working as separate, small, units for so long, they've damn near perfected the system. I can pick out one or two, but they have dozens."
Not a great thing for the cops. "Keep at it. I'll get you whatever resources I can. The last thing the mayor wants is for Toronto to be a major drug centre for North America."
"I'll try to leave that to New Jersey," smirked Steve. "Dinner at your place next Thursday? Third Thursday."
Gail rolled her eyes. "This is your excuse to eat my cooking."
"My baby sister has hidden talents. I've seen your sugar flowers." Steve gave her a winning smile.
"And what would you like for your sixtieth birthday, Captain Spaz?"
Her brother spluttered. "That is two years away, you brat. And I plan to retire before then."
It was impossible not to look hurt. She felt hurt. "You're really doing it?"
"One more year," nodded Steve. "Uncle Eli's offer is too good. Less work, less stress." He looked at his hands. "You should think about it too, you know. Imagine all the time you could spend with Holly."
"Not yet," she replied, softly.
Steve shook his head. "Keep an eye on not yet, Garbage Pail. Don't let it be too late."
She knew what he meant and smiled. "I want to get out alive, Ginger."
They shared a look. "The pale fails reign supreme," agreed Steve.
Indeed they did.
After Steve left, Gail put the projection of her case notes up in the wall. Technology that she had only dreamed of twenty years ago was real now. The wall was just a monitor that had clear glass, safe to write on with a dry erase marker, covering it. Stupid brilliant. That she could double tap the glass and have it copy her handwriting into notes on the computer, or drag and drop boxes, was the epic stuff made of dreams.
Gail stared at the notes for Three Rivers. Her timeline was filled with questions. When she'd been a rookie in Major Crimes, she'd taken them apart when they'd been in the midst of an internal take over. "Out with the old, Bobby Z." She stared at his name on the far left. They had epically failed taking on the mafia type folks. Body drops.
She smiled and stepped down the timeline. Minor flirts with the law here and here. Drugs, all minor. Guns. Ditto. Then they fell off the radar around the time Vivian was twelve. That must have been when they branched out into minor groups. Gail scribbled that on her wall and tapped it. That gave them over a decade of practice, hiding their true goals.
"Take small gangs and let them keep their names. Not stupid," she muttered. That had, in part, been their problem last time. They pushed their new names and agendas on to the old crew and cause dissension in the ranks. Tapping her lip, Gail frowned. "Of course you have to be damn brilliant to keep that many small groups in line, going the same direction."
She'd been struggling with three divisions. But they were fairly large, and one had been corrupt, so it wasn't a shock that they were reluctant to a Peck Takeover. When you had that many balls to juggle, you screwed up and dropped them. Which was how a baby rookie accidentally caught them on her first day.
Gail stared at the wall. Steve had a short list of some of the gangs that were a part of the Three Rivers Conglomerate.
"What we need are the little guys," Gail decided. She picked up her phone and tapped Chloe's number. Technically Chloe too worked for her, under the Organized Crime auspice.
"Hey Gail," sang Chloe. "What's up?"
The last thing Butler had told her was to always set the tone. Be the voice you wanted to hear back. Gail pulled her most professional one. "Price. I'm going to need some of your guys to go undercover and get into small gangs. Find out how they feed back to Three Rivers. These might be long ops."
Chloe was quiet for a moment. "Just when I thought things were getting a little too rote around here," she laughed. "Can I have next week to plan it out?"
Speed would make them fuck up. Also it was Thursday. "Take till the end of the month," she decided. "I want this plan locked and solid. Your best guys."
And her best asset in undercover ops sounded unusually serious. "You got it."
Now all they needed was that in.
The Don River Forks. It was a semi popular walk along the Don Rivers. It started along the West Don, crossed the East, and then passed the Forks, where the two joined into the Lower Don. This part of the Don Valley looked like crap. Industrialized. The research online told her it flooded a lot.
The trail on the website cited it as a mere 6 kilometers, so Vivian tightened her sneakers and took off down the marked path. She could easily make the run down the trail and back in 45 minutes, even with time for looking around and seeing who the people were. Running while looking was different than running for fun, and she knew it would take her a little longer than her normal pace (which was around 3.5 minutes per kilometer, and yes, Gail hated her for it).
Her plan was simple. Go for a run, get a feel for the area. See the people around, and probably come up empty. But hey. It was her theory. The gang had started here. It was a stupid theory, but Gail had chased a stupid theory about ambulances and that led her to this same gang and a whole career. Not that Vivian wanted to be in Major Crimes. It didn't thrill her.
And as expected, she didn't find a damn thing. It was nice, normal, and people said hello to her on her run. No lurking gangs, or kids skulking around, or anything like that. The way the place got washed out every time it rained, Vivian suspected there wouldn't be any secret lairs or bases like they had out by the cottage.
Her parents were going up to the cottage later that month, alone. And Vivian was jealous of them. "God, I need a date," she muttered and slowed to a walk as she hit the parking lot. She'd kind of dated a girl when she'd been in the Academy, but that had lasted about as long as it took for her to find out Vivian was really going to be a cop.
Logging her run on her watch, Vivian unlocked her car to drive to work. She could shower there and not have to deal with Gail's increasingly direct comments about how Liv was avoiding them. The engine made a terrible noise. Provided her car would start.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She cranked the engine. No go. Shit. The crapmobile, which was actually a damned awesome detective kitted out Dodge, was finally dying. Vivian popped the hood and stared at the engine long enough to know a lost cause. She could do most minor repairs on her car, but this was nothing she knew by sound.
One short call to CAA, one long tow to her mechanic's, and one medium wait for the shop to actually open, resulted in Vivian wheedling a quick check on what had happened. "You won't like it," said the mechanic as he wrapped up.
"Sing me the song of your people, Tad," she sighed. He handed her a piece of paper. Vivian read it and winced. "Damn it, I just got those tires!" Of all the things they'd warned her about the last time she'd been in, the computer failing was not something she'd expected. But apparently it was dead, and it would be thousands to replace.
"I know. Have you thought about selling her?"
Vivian eyed him. "I'm not against the idea."
Tad nodded. "See, the parts you need are more than I could get you for the parts you got. She's a money pit. But your car has a lot of high end parts from the original maker. And those are hard to get."
She nodded back. "So you want to buy my car for parts. What about the tires?"
"Them too," he smiled. "Do you have time to crunch numbers?"
Looking at her watch, Vivian sighed. "Let me make a call first."
Somehow she managed to get to work before parade and with the check in hand. God maybe felt pity on her. If God was inclined to help a daughter of an agnostic and an atheist who was possibly the anti-Christ.
"What happened to you?" Jenny asked it. She and Lara were dressed before Vivian had rushed through her shower, but they both stuck around.
"Car died," grumbled Vivian, pulling on her clothes as fast as she could. "Dead dead, too."
Lara winced. "No wheels. Did you get scrap for it?" Vivian nodded, yanking her black undershirt on. "Maybe you can pick one up at the auction?"
Sadly the next auction was at the end of the month. She could wait for a month, catching rides with people and her mom, but Vivian felt like she needed a change. "Yeah, maybe," she grumbled.
Jenny patted Vivian's shoulder. "Check the board? I think Collins is selling his car."
That was an option too, though Vivian wasn't sure she wanted another used car. She did look and was startled. Nick wasn't selling his car, he was selling his bike. In specific, he was selling his relatively new motorcycle. This was the one he'd gotten just a couple years ago. Vivian had learned to ride on his previous bike, a skill Holly and Gail insisted she master so they could rent motorcycles in Greece. That had been awesome.
And she realized right away that she could never get away with buying it.
Even if she managed to talk Nick about buying it, he would never sell it to her. Why? He was just too afraid of her mother. With good reason, of course, Gail was terrifying. And Nick had left her at the altar, so he had a lot to fear from an angry Gail Peck. But. Damn it, the bike felt like such a cool thing.
Her life, she'd tried to be normal. Boring even. Because no one looked deeply at the boring, normal, girl. Maybe she didn't have to be boring. She could be a quiet, introspective, motorcycle rider. That was practically expected. Lesbians on motorcycles were a thing.
But, damn it, he'd never sell to her. And he wasn't even at the station.
She made it into parade with time to spare, though not much, and Vivian found herself paired with McNally for a change. "Grab your gear, Peck. We're in 1509."
For whatever reason, Vivian hadn't yet run with Andy McNally, which was odd. This was her fourth month as a cop and she'd ridden with half a dozen TOs, but not Andy McNally. "You're running late," teased McNally.
"My car finally died." She dropped into the passenger seat. "Where's Nick- Sorry, where's Collins?"
McNally's face screwed up. "Family stuff."
She knew Nick was an orphan. Vaguely Vivian recalled Nick's older brother was named Finn. She'd actually met him once, when Nick had called Holly, of all people, to help him sort out his drunk, wheelchair bound brother. Teen Vivian had been in the car and sworn to silence about the matter. Not that Gail didn't know about Finn. She'd been the only person not surprised to hear about him decades past.
Best not to speak up about that. "Oh. I thought it was why he's selling his bike."
Her TO's face lit into a smile. "No! He lost a bet with me about it." And McNally told a convoluted (even by McNally standards) story about how Nick and Andy had a deal with the bike and he could keep in provided he meet certain criteria. "But he took Aronson to autopsy last week."
Vivian laughed. She knew that Jenny had booted right there in autopsy. "I bet he says you cheated by making me and Rich go with Duncan."
"He did," admitted McNally, with her big grin flashing. "But don't ask about buying it. Your mom would kill me."
Snorting, Vivian looked at the street. "Which one?"
"Both." They shared a look and laughed.
But it gave Vivian an idea. At lunch, she stopped in the bank and deposited her check. And she took out a cashier's check for the amount of Nick's bike. No negotiations. She had the money, thanks to what was left from her grandparent's estate. It was the only money she had, besides her salary, that was hers to do whatever she wanted without judgement.
Technically she had the trust fund as well, which had only been used for college. That money was Peck money. Armstrong money. In her case, it worked out the same way. Either way, it had a hell of a lot of strings attached to it, from both her moms (who had clear parent ideas about how that money should be spent) and her great-uncle Eli (who had sat her down for a lecture about where the money came from when she'd changed her name). She didn't have the majority of the money yet, either. That wouldn't happen until 25. Two more years.
Buying a motorcycle would be frivolous and wasteful. Holly hadn't been pleased that Vivian had bought a car at sixteen, but hadn't argued about it. That said, Gail thought it was sensible, had it not been Steve's old car. Sometimes it was hard to tell what would annoy her moms or not.
She just ... Vivian just needed a change. She didn't want to run off and be someone else, or make an emergency situation and scare them off. She wasn't up a tree. And hey, that metaphor finally made sense! Vivian wasn't her mothers. Of course she would always see them in her, which was awesome, but she needed to be her own person in a different way.
All she had to do was just convince someone to do her a favor. It couldn't be Christian, everyone would know that was for her. Vivian grabbed the sheet off the notice board, hoping no one noticed, and shoved it in her pocket. Maybe one of the older officers who knew her... Except the all were afraid of Gail too. She needed someone who didn't know Gail or Holly, but would still do her a favor.
As she stood in the hallway, mulling her options, she spotted Lara carrying files. "Hey, Volk, c'mere."
"Hey, how's riding with McNally?"
Vivian blinked. "Oh, fine. Why wouldn't it be?"
Shrugging, Lara put her files down. "You just looked sneaky and Collins got in all grumpy... Thought maybe they were having a domestic."
Interesting where people went. "Nick's here?" She felt a smile cross her face.
Lara stepped back. "Okay. Now you look evil. Like... Like Parent Trap evil."
Actually, Vivian had done that as a child. She'd managed to get her parents up to the cottage to rekindle the romance. "No. No, look, remember I said my car died?"
"Sure," nodded Lara. And Vivian pulled Nick's for-sale sheet out of her pocket. "Hey! That's a cool idea."
"Yeah, but I have a problem. See, I need you to buy it for me. I can give you a cashier's check right now, but I can't buy it from Collins."
Shrewd Lara studied Vivian's face. "You can't buy it?"
Vivian gave her some of the truth. "Because Nick knows my Mom and he'll never sell it to me."
That seemed to make sense to Lara. "So you want me to buy the bike from Nick and then just give it to you?" When Vivian nodded, Lara grimaced. "Why me?"
God, why did she have to be so nosy? "Because Nick would know C was doing it for me. And Jenny would say no. And God help me, I'm not dealing with Rich and dykes on bikes jokes."
Her classmate quirked a smile. "Do you know how to ride?"
Ironically, Nick had taught her. "Yes." She pulled out her license and showed the motorcycle designation there. "Come on, I'll owe you." Vivian held up the check.
"Oh. A Peck will owe me?" Lara laughed and took the check. "You really want this bike, huh?"
Vivian looked up at the ceiling for a moment. How could she possibly break down her crap right now to a near stranger? She couldn't. "Yes. I really do."
Looking her in the eyes, Lara nodded. "Okay." She looked at the check and then Vivian. "But when I ask for my payback, it's going to come with a story. You can make if up if you want."
Smiling, Vivian said, "It'll involve unicorns."
"And princesses? Why Vivian Peck, I didn't know you had that in you!"
Her least favorite case was the kind she couldn't solve. Holly prided herself on her closed case numbers and with good reason. In her time as chief medical examiner, case closures had improved by 7.3%, and convictions due to her lab's work were up 11.8% compared to her predecessor.
It did help, having one of the best in Major Crimes at her beck and call. Her relationship with the officers on the force also helped a great deal and she knew it. But having that damn head bashing case show up, once or twice every year, drove her nuts.
Two on the same day, both in cars, in August. Both wearing the same knit caps. It was infuriating. There was never any evidence. The one time they'd managed to find a possible weapon, a tire iron with blood on it, it turned out to be an unrelated case. Whatever gang was running around bashing in heads for fun had been doing so for over thirty years.
Holly stared at her monitor and sighed. Once she'd posited that maybe the tuques were the clue, but they were random and varied. Then she'd tried the jackets, since all the crimes had victims wearing puffy jackets. All that had done was given her a lead on the summer crimes, which was why she knew the beatings went back to the early 2000s. Except she'd been able to find some possibly related crimes traipsing back into the 1980s and Holly had a feeling this was even older than that.
Stumped, yet again, Holly filed away her notes and checked her phone. It was time. She dialed St. Pats. "Dr. Stewart for Dr. Jacques, please." She waited until the phone clicked over. "Hey, Leon."
"Hi, Holly," said the man, his voice booming down the line. "You are on time like a clock."
She smiled at his cheerful tone. "You sound happy. Good news?"
"Depends on your point of view, I suppose. The infection's under control."
Holly exhaled. "Well that's good."
"He's not in good health, Holly. I know he's your friend but... How much do you want to know?"
She looked out her window. "He's my friend's brother, actually," Holly explained. "Tell me everything."
Her fellow doctor sighed loudly and gave her the breakdown on what was wrong with Finn Collins. He needed to stop drinking and he needed to be more active. His infection was from poor health care and cleaning habits, and he was barely healthy enough to have fought it off this long.
"We can keep him here for the month, but I would recommend full time care."
Holly closed her eyes. "How is he mentally?"
"You mean can I put him on a psych check?" Jacques sounded thoughtful. "You think the infection was intentional? A slow suicide? Sounds rather grotesque."
"We've both seen worse. Can you get someone to run an eval on him?"
"Of course. May I ask why you want me to keep him?"
"His brother's a police officer. That's an expense he may not be able to shoulder." And there was no way Nick would accept a dime from them. He was already unhappy about asking Holly to lean on her doctor friends just to get Finn treatment now.
Jacques ah'ed softly. "I see. I'll do what I can, Holly." Then he laughed. "You know, when you called me out of the blue, I thought it might be something else."
Holly laughed as well. "Like I'd finally found you a fifth wife?"
"Like you were quitting your tawdry job and coming back to real medicine?"
She snorted. "You and Lisa can shut up, Leon. I love my job."
They chatted for a while about their jobs and lives. Leon had four ex wives and three children. He was happy to talk to her about their shared experiences as parents. That Holly's kid was a cop was surprising, but Leon had met Gail and said he understood. His own children had no interest in being like him. He also gave Holly a great deal of information of what could be done.
Holly took the information with her down to Fifteen at the end of the day and found Nick, weirdly smiling. "Hey, you're happy."
"Sold my bike. Andy thinks it's that bet we had but..." Nick shook his head. "I think I can afford that assisted home." He looked at Holly, concerned. "How long do I have?"
"At least till the end of the month." She sat on his desk and held up a thumb drive. "Everything's on here, Nick. Take your time. Talk to Andy. I'll explain everything I can."
He nodded. "Okay. I just... You know, he's my brother."
She didn't know. She was an only child. "I get it," she said, not really a lie. Gail had been panicking lately, realizing that Steve was serious about retiring. It cut at Gail to be the last Peck from her era.
Nick nodded. "Thank you."
Reaching over, Holly patted his arm. "We're practically family, Nick. So. Who did you sell the bike to?"
"Volk," he beamed. "She talked me into throwing in the helmets and my top-box."
"Well it's not like you're going to use them," teased Holly.
"God you sound like Andy," he laughed. They glanced over as the rookies clamored through, Vivian in the middle. "She's doing good," Nick said softly.
Nodding, Holly watched her daughter awkwardly chatting with the other four rookies, scratching the back of her head just like Gail and Steve did when they were uncomfortable. "Its my job to worry," she replied, quietly.
The one thing that worried her about Vivian as a cop was her closed off nature. It had taken so long to get her to open up to Gail and Holly, but Viv had never mastered the casual friendship that most people made. She was unwilling to talk about herself to the general world, and while Holly knew why, it was still a little sad.
"How about we go look at the newbie on the motorcycle," offered Nick, pushing back from his desk.
Holly smiled. "Did you even check if she has a license?" When Nick looked stricken, Holly broke out laughing. "Oh now we have to go look."
She led Nick out to the parking lot and stopped in the doorway, Nick plowing into her. Holly barely heard Nick ask what was wrong as she stared at the motorcycle. The rookies were standing around watching the motorcycle do a slow circle. "Hey... That's not Volk."
It was not. Lara Volk was a little shorter than Holly. The woman on the motorcycle was closer to six feet tall and she was wearing a jacket Holly had bought for a trip to Vancouver. "No, it is not," Holly said darkly and stepped out to the lot, pulling out her phone and taking a photo. "You sold your bike to my daughter."
"I did not!" Nick hissed and leaned forward. "I sold it to Volk!"
But they watched as Lara took the second helmet and got on behind Vivian, calling her classmates suckers, and the two drove off. Holly scowled and texted Gail.
It's Thursday after work. Do you know where your daughter is?
A moment later, Gail replied.
Going to the Penny with friends and told me not to wait for her. Why do I feel like this is a trick question?
Holly sent the photo. It was Nick's phone that lit up a few moments later. "Yikes," he muttered. "I'm dead."
"That is a distinct possibility," sighed Holly. "I'll go talk to her." Inside the Division, she found Gail in her office, packing up for the day. "I think our child tricked him."
"Oh? So I only have to kill her?" The tone was one Holly knew. Gail wasn't really mad at Nick or Vivian. She was just surprised and Gail hated surprises.
Closing the office door, Holly walked up and looped her arms around Gail's neck. "Hey," she said softly.
Gail pouted. "She bought a motorcycle. Did you know her crapmobile died this morning?"
"No."
"When did she stop talking to us? First the whole thing with Liv, whatever the hell that is, and now a motorcycle?" Gail's hands found Holly's waist and she sighed, letting her head drop to Holly's shoulder.
Pressing her cheek to Gail's temple, Holly hummed thoughtfully. "We raised a smart, independent, capable, daughter, who doesn't like to talk about herself."
Gail sighed loudly. "I was going to the range."
"Have you been this week?"
"No."
Holly nodded and kissed her forehead. "You go shoot things. I'll make dinner. Chicken, Brolio, roast vegetables." She let go of Gail and cupped her cheeks. "Don't yell at Nick too much."
For a moment, Gail looked crushed. Then she leaned in to kiss Holly's lips. "Thank you," she said softly.
By the time Gail got home, she seemed to be back into a better head place. They didn't wait for Vivian, knowing she was probably stalling to get home, and sat on the back deck with plates of chicken and wine. They didn't talk about family or work, but other things. Holly showed Gail a new meme she'd found, Gail told Holly about a song her new transfer sang in the car when they went to check on a case.
They talked about a plan to go up to the cottage without their kid, which made Gail hesitate. "She's probably going to move out soon."
Holly blinked. "You think?"
"The motorcycle, the going out. I think she's figuring out who she is as an adult." Gail swirled her wine in the glass.
That was possible. "She's been struggling the last few years," agreed Holly. "Since she changed her name."
Gail sighed. "Life as a Peck is not what she thought."
"She changed her name, lost both her best friends, and started college. It's a lot for anyone, Gail. What were you doing at her age?"
Smiling, Gail put the wine down. "Let's see. Making a fool of myself trying to be cool at the Academy. Sleeping with Chris right after he'd broken up with Denise. Oh and lying to Dov about it. Brown nosing. Picking family over my 'friends.' The usual." She'd even made the air quotes. "And you, Miss Perfect?"
"That's Dr. Perfect. I didn't spend all that time at evil medical school just to be called Miss Perfect." She leaned back and looked over the back yard. "Sleeping with my TA, going to every single gay club I could, getting Lisa out of trouble, and ... Screwing around, mostly, while acing my boards."
Gail snorted. "Acing."
"Of the two of us, you're the one who made Dean's List," reminded Holly.
"Yeah, that does make me wonder about the merit of you being top of your class," Gail grinned and leaned over to kiss Holly softly. "What will life be like when our mini-human loves out?"
A fair question. They'd spent more of their life together with Vivian than without. "Quiet."
Smiling, Gail noted, "We can have sex with the door open."
"Interesting how that's your first thought," laughed Holly. "You can walk around naked again."
"Oh my god," groaned Gail. "The one time at Andy's!" But her eyes were laughing.
The garage door sounded and they both glanced inside. "Be nice."
Gail smiled. "I'm over it," she promised. "We're out back," she called to the main house.
A moment later, Vivian came outside with a plate of her own. "Hi."
"Hi," replied Gail, smiling sweetly. Holly pinched her arm. "What happened to the car?"
"The computer died." She sat opposite her parents and took a bite. "Good chicken mom," Viv said to Holly. She always knew.
Leaning against Gail, Holly smiled. "You're welcome." They didn't say anything else. Holly eyed Gail, who shook her head minutely. Oh. They were waiting Vivian out.
It wasn't too long before Vivian put down her knife and fork. "Okay, why are you mad?"
"Because you pulled one over on Nick without us," smiled Gail. Vivian blinked a little. "Come on, I know he wouldn't sell you the bike on his own. He's terrified of me and owes your Mom way too much."
Holly shook her head. "He sold it to Lara. Volk. The one who passed out."
Smiling her most malevolent grin, Gail kissed Holly. "I love that's how you remember them."
Making a face, Vivian pointed at her plate. "I'm eating here." Gail laughed and then got a perfectly evil look on her face. "What are you doing, Mom?"
Gail pulled her phone out. "I'm texting Nick and asking him not to tell McNally if he hasn't yet… You're going to drive to work on your own tomorrow, kid."
While Vivian complained she didn't want to be a part of Gail's hazing shenanigans, Holly just smiled. "Someone take photos for me." She wouldn't stop Gail's childishness even if she could.
Vivian heard the conversation as she turned off the engine. She'd known Andy for years and knew her voice well. "A new rookie on a motorcycle? So predictable."
"Isn't that Nick's?" That was her aunt Traci. Vivian could actually hear the smirk.
"Oh yeah, he sold it to…" Andy trailed off and Vivian glanced in her mirror. Lara was walking right by them. "Her… Hey, Volk. Didn't you buy Nick's bike?"
Lara looked at the bike and nodded. "I did. But I was… I was just the middle man."
In all likelihood, Holly would complain if she didn't get a photo. Vivian took her phone out and aimed it at McNally as she pulled off her helmet. Okay. Fine. The face was epic. Both Traci and Andy stood there with dropped jaws. Right away she sent the photo to her mothers. "Morning," she smiled at her aunts.
By the time she was on patrol, in another junkyard, with Coburn as her TO, her moms had texted back their delight. Nick had been true to his word and not told Andy about the bike. Apparently it was easier to lie to Andy than to disobey Gail. Though Vivian could understand that. Gail had an ability to be very intense sometimes.
That was why Vivian hadn't introduced her other girlfriends to her parents. They knew about the girls in general, but there was no reason to introduce people she knew she wasn't really serious about. Vivian had liked them and her parents could be complicated. Of course, they'd known about Pia the artist, and they'd almost met Skye twice. But her last girlfriend, bad sex and a wanna be open relationship who wasn't pleased that Vivian was going to be a cop, had gotten nowhere near her moms.
Ugh. She needed to stop dwelling on her sex life, or lack there of.
"See anything, Peck?" Coburn was okay to work with. He was pretty quiet, which Vivian appreciated. They were walking up and down the aisles of the junkyard, looking for more dead guys.
"Nada," she yawned.
Coburn grunted and they turned down another aisle. There were a surprising number of boring moments, being a cop. Paperwork was boring but easy. It took time, which was annoying as hell, but it rarely took brains. Patrol could be boring, and often was, when you walked and walked and nothing happened. Which made the subsequent paperwork super boring. But those were also good days. The alternative were days where she sprinted after idiots, or dug through garbage, or fell in puke... Which had happened twice now.
Today was boring and hot and annoying. The odds of running into another dead body was slim to none. The chances of a case that was going to be related the a two decade long head bashing was so unlikely as to be laughable. But there she was on a Friday, walking up and down the aisles of a junkyard. Looking.
By the time she got back to the station, she was sticky, sweaty, sure her uniform reeked, and wanted nothing more than to fall into the lake up at the cottage and freeze. Cottage. Shit. Vivian pulled her phone out and stared at the dates. Her parents were going to the cottage for some alone time next week.
Vivian grimaced and lay down on the bench.
"Uh oh," laughed Lara as she came in. "What happened to our silent eager beaver?"
"It's not easy being green," suggested Jenny, and Vivian snorted.
They had no idea how funny that was to her. Green. "I used to be Green," she mused. "But now I'm Peck."
There was a pause. "Are you drunk, Peck?"
"No. I have to drive home."
Lara sat down and leaned over to look at Vivian's face. "Have you always been a grown up, mature, responsible pain in the ass?"
Thinking about it for a moment, Vivian sighed. "Yes."
"Right," grumbled Lara. "Here's the deal. You need a night with the girls."
"Yeah, not driving home drunk, my mother would kill me." Both of them would. They might actually take turns, she realized.
Lara snorted. "You're an idiot. You, me, Jenny. We're going out. We'll hit up some bars. Dance with stupid boys. Get way too drunk, take a taxi home, and sleep."
Taxis. Huh. It was like tomatoes. Things she just didn't really do often. "I don't dance," noted Vivian, but she sat up.
"Because you're gay?" Jenny opened her locker. "I know a couple good gay bars."
"I went to one, count 'em, one dance as a kid," explained Vivian, taking her shoes off. "It did not end well." She didn't dance, she didn't sleep over. "I'm just really boring," she added.
"Clearly we need to de-boring our Peck." Lara clapped her shoulder. "Shower. Have a beer at the Penny."
Vivian grimaced. "I had a feeling I smelled."
"You're a special sort of stench right now, Peck," teased Jenny.
She did go to the Penny, though. It was the end of the week, after all, and the cases were at ends where the rookies weren't needed. The winner of Jenny's silly chart contest was Lara, with Vivian a reluctant but close second, for their discoveries of dead bodies and cars. Christian and Jenny had been on desk duty, while Rich had done checks on the elderly.
As loathe as she was to admit it, it was nice to hang out with them. She felt pretty normal for a change.
"So basically we all suck," decided Christian. "God, I want to go undercover." He put his head on the table.
"Cheer up," offered Vivian. "I heard there might be a sting op from sex crimes." That had been the news from Wet Peck, whose sister was in sex crimes. She was not called Sex Peck. That would have been too weird, even for the Pecks.
Jenny perked up. "You hear that from a good source?"
While Vivian nodded, Rich asked, "What does that have to do with us?"
It was Christian who explained. "If they're doing a sting on Johns, they need new faces. Viv, true up. Who's a better boy toy. Me or Rich?"
All three women studied the boys. "Christian," they said as one.
The look on Rich's face was hilarious. "You all suck," he complained. "Older ladies like me, and I bet Inspector Williams will pick me."
Vivian smirked. "She's married to Superintendent Best over in the big building."
That put a damper on it in Rich's mind, thank god. "Man are they all married? You said Detective Peck, the one on our floor, is married!"
But even Jenny knew this one. "Traci Peck? Yeah, she's married to the Peck up in in Guns and Gangs."
"Steve," offered Christian, smiling. Vivian kicked him under the table. "Also she's an Inspector."
"McNally's dating Collins," complained Rich. "Sgt. Price is married to Sgt. Epstein..." He went down the list of all the women over forty in the station and then ended with an unexpected one. "And that sexy blonde Peck with the short hair, who heads up OC, looks like she'd cut me alive."
Vivian somehow managed to stifle a laugh. "Inspector Gail Peck. She's married." This time, Christian kicked her under the table.
"Are there any single, mature, ladies?" The wail from Rich was positively hilariously.
"Dr. Ury, but she likes 'em older too," mused Vivian. "Oh, there's Officer Polo. She's single. So's Taft. She's divorced and on the rebound." Her classmates stared at her. "What? I pay attention."
"She doesn't talk much," Lara remarked. "But when she does, it's things I hadn't noticed. What is your secret, Peck?"
Oh. She had a couple good ones. Like her relationship with Liv. Or her parents. Or her birth parents. "I'm very boring," she said as flatly as possible. "I have to fill the void of my life with everyone else's."
Lara laughed. "Look, I just want something besides the stupid case that'll never get solved to think about."
Picking up a beer, Jenny frowned. "Never get solved? The whack-a-mole case?"
"Yeah, I heard Dr. Stewart and McNally talking about how it'd been recurring for decades." Lara shook her head. "Fucking nightmare. Going on at all the Divisions."
"Ain't that cheerful." Rich leaned back and downed his beer. "Alright ladies. I'm going hunting. Raaaaawr." He made claw at the collected rookies and left to go talk to an older woman at the bar.
Jenny sighed. "I'm having trouble believing he's real. Did he walk out of a catalogue?"
"Abercrombie Assholes from the 1990s?" Vivian smiled and sipped her beer. "He's actually a good cop."
"And I'm a drag queen," muttered Christian.
Vivian turned and looked at the bar. "It's true, C. And he's about to strike out."
The only man at the table laughed. "Who's he after?"
"Officer Luck from TwentySeven." Vivian picked up her phone and snapped a photo. "Jen's on the diversity whatever they call it. Team." In the brief moment of confused silence, Vivian sighed. "She's a lesbian."
They all watched Rich strike out and move on to the next person. "He's going to run through the Division soon," mused Lara. "You could take a note from that, though, Peck. Go out and live a little."
She had heard that before. Vivian shook her head. She tired like hell to avoid conversations like this. "When's the last time you went on a date Lara?"
That sufficiently distracted the gang enough to move on to the next part of the night, which was darts. At least Vivian could comfortably show off her talents at the dartboard. Safer than people poking at her personal life.
Kicking the foot of Vivian's door, Gail raised her voice. "Child. Get up. Laundry, mopping, brunch." No answer. That was rare. Gail opened the door and poked her head in to check. No Vivian. Even more rare. The bed was unmade, but that was normal lately. It drove Gail crazy, but she let it go.
"Hey, no snooping," chastised Holly as she walked by with their sheets.
"No child," noted Gail.
Holly dumped the sheets into the basket Gail held. "Twenty-three is not a child."
"She could have told us she wasn't coming home," grumbled Gail, stripping Vivian's bed and getting out fresh sheets, though those she just left on the bed. Vivian could make her own bed. "Nice ass."
Rolling her eyes, Holly went downstairs. "You are incorrigible, Gail."
"You're just really sexy," called back Gail, and she grabbed the towels from Viv's bathroom, taking it all down to the basement for a wash. On the way, she poked her head into the garage. No motorcycle.
Was it wrong to be worried that her kid was dead in a ditch somewhere? Gail started the laundry and went back to find her phone and check on where the phone said her daughter was. Moving on Queen's Quay. Okay, probably alive.
Holly caught her at it and shook her head. "What would you have done before phones?"
"Called Dispatch and asked for eyes on her. Why?"
"Stop being a Peck," sighed Holly, reaching over and taking the phone out of her wife's hands. "If a concerned parent came up to you and said their daughter was missing for 8 hours, and she was 24, what would you tell them?"
Sometimes memory was a brat. "I would have apologized and said it hadn't been long enough," muttered Gail. The name sprung into her brain. A memory of over twenty years ago. A dark and terrible day. "We found her though."
Holly eyed her. "Found…?"
"Gracie Alison Finn. Her dad came in after she'd been missing about 9 hours. She was Viv's age, 23. Kidnapped by Adam Sawyer." Gail plucked her phone back out of Holly's hand. She'd met Holly a scant month later.
"Honey..." Holly's face fell into one of understanding sadness.
Shaking her head, Gail shoved the phone into her pocket. "Yeah, I'm gonna worry, Holly. Always. Because I know exactly how bad it gets," she said bitterly.
It wasn't Holly's fault and she knew that. Sometimes the weight you carried around crushed you. "Gail," said Holly, gently. It was her apologetic tone.
"No, not right now, okay?" Gail turned and walked back to the kitchen. "I'm not mad, I just don't want to talk about that."
"Okay," Holly replied softly. And she did give Gail space.
Once in a while, things were reversed and Holly needed the silence and space to sort through what was in her head. Gail just wanted to shut up the memory for a while. You were supposed to worry about your kids less as they grew up. They were people, after all, and they could take care of themselves. But Gail recognized she was always going to be a little more worried than the normal parent about some things.
She tried to cover it up with her sarcasm and teasing nature, but the truth was a little darker. After everything she'd seen in twenty-five years on the force, Gail couldn't objectively look at the world anymore. Half her life ago, and it was still colored by the pain from one stupid night where they got the wrong guy and she should have checked the damn door.
She was still cooking in the kitchen when Vivian made in home.
"Hey," announced the kid, sounding pretty awake for someone out all night.
"Hey, you are sweaty and disgusting," replied Holly. "Where were you?"
"Suicide Sprints with the guys from ETF. Hi, Mom."
Gail glanced over and saw her daughter taking her motorcycle jacket off and falling onto the couch. "Your laundry is in the wash," Gail called over and tossed the tuna into the pan.
"Thanks," yawned Vivian. "Sue says hi."
When Gail didn't reply, she heard her daughter sit up and ask if something was wrong. "No," said Holly quietly. "Though where were you last night?"
"Here," replied Vivian, sounding absolutely perplexed. "I got home at like two. You guys were asleep."
"And you went to do suicide sprints this morning?" Her wife was sounding dubious. "Honey, I'm thinking she was swapped out with another child at the judge's office."
Shaking her head, Gail kept making the fresh tuna salad. She knew what Holly was doing. Holly was giving her a timeline to make her see that Vivian had never been at risk for being dead in a ditch. She came home, slept a few hours, and went back out because she was insane. Just like them.
Gail listened to Vivian tell Holly about how she did darts, and how Rich hit on Jen Luck and yes, she got pictures. Holly asked about how she was getting along with her classmates. When Vivian told her that Lara wanted to get her out and date, Holly said she thought that wasn't a bad idea.
The kid was avoiding dating and anything personal with the rookies lately. Something had gone down with Liv a month ago, that was for sure. But Vivian had never really been great at people. She didn't trust them not to hurt her, which made sense. Scars lingered. And Gail understood why Vivian didn't want her new friends to dig too much into the life of a kid who was adopted. They might find out her past.
Neither of them wanted to be that tragic little girl. And back to Perik again. Gail put her hands on the counter and sighed, trying to get her head out of that hole. It was a recipe for nightmares. She was too tense and to twitchy. It all clung to her too tightly, like clothes that didn't fit.
Her wrist buzzed and Gail glanced down to see the heartbeat from Holly. As stupid as that had seemed years ago when they first got the watches, it was a simple way to poke each other. Looking over at the couch, Holly had her back to the kitchen and was almost absently talking to Vivian about how it was good to go out and change things up now and then.
Gail tapped her watch to send a heartbeat back. Then she pulled out her phone and checked something. The fish was done and she took it off the heat. "Holly, can I leave the salad for you to finish?"
Her wife looked over, perplexed. "Sure. Work call?"
"Mm. No."
But Holly didn't ask more. Gail went upstairs, found her yoga gear, and came back down. The kid was gone and Holly was making the salad, reading Gail's notes in the cookbook. "Where's the troublesome one?"
"Showering and she said she'd finish the laundry." Holly half turned and her mouth opened to say 'ah' as she saw Gail's gear. "Have fun," she told Gail, smiling but not leaning towards her to get a kiss.
Gail nodded. "I'm not ... I'm not mad, Holly."
Her wife nodded back. "I know," she said. And the tone, the way she said it and the way she smiled gently, told Gail she really did know. "Shoo. Go do yoga. I'll massage you when you get back. If you like."
Smiling, Gail went to the garage. "I may take you up on that."
Right now, all she hoped was to push the stupid thoughts out of her head so she could sleep.
On the best of nights, Vivian didn't sleep much. Insomnia sucked. Guilt wasn't helping. After Gail had gone off to impromptu yoga, Holly had explained that Gail had not been particularly happy about her night out. They'd not heard her come home nor had they heard her leave, so from their perspective, the kid hadn't come home at all that night.
When people asked if it was hard having a cop for a parent, they usually meant in the way that cops were protective. They didn't mean it in the way that cops were scared to death because they knew how horrible the world was. Gail had been kidnapped, after all. Holly literally saw death daily. Of course they took things the worst way. They lived them the worst way.
Her parents weren't overprotective. Vivian was the only kid she knew who didn't get in trouble for staying out late or throwing a party. It wasn't just because she was responsible. It was because her moms were trying not to smother her. To let her have a life.
Saturday morning had rolled around with not enough sleep before Vivian found herself wide awake. Sunday morning was inching up before she'd managed to get any more. She'd close her eyes, curl up in bed, and just lie there. Thinking. It sucked.
She left the lights off and stared at her ceiling. The fan made its lazy circle, pushing the air around and keeping the room tolerable between bouts of the air conditioner. Summer. It was inching to an end. Soon she'd be five months a cop and Liv would be away at school.
That was still confusing the hell out of her. She'd tried calling Liv a couple times. Asking if she wanted to come over for dinner because Holly hadn't seen her since she'd been back. Asking if she was okay. All Viv got in return was a text saying Liv was fine. Girls were confusing. You didn't get a free pass on understanding them by being one.
A sound jostled her out of her head. It was followed by a loud 'God Fucking Damnit!' from the master bedroom. In the still of the night, she heard Gail curse again, more quietly. It wasn't a phone call. Vivian sat up and listened carefully. She could identify Gail's footsteps in the hall, hitting the loose floorboard by the office that they had never managed to get to stop squeaking, and then the sound of a light clicking on.
With a sigh, Vivian got up and poked her head out. The office light was on. She turned her head and saw the master bedroom at the end of the hall, still dark, the door cracked open. More quietly than Gail, Vivian slipped out of her room and checked to see that Holly was still sound asleep, draped over most of the bed. Then she walked down the hall, avoiding the loose step, and stuck her head in the office.
As expected Gail was sitting on the couch with her tablet. Unexpected, she was not really reading. She was just staring at the wall. "Hey," Vivian said, trying not to let her nerves show.
Gail looked up. Her face looked… horrible. Like sleep was a joke. And weirdly, Vivian recognized the eyes. She'd seen them in the mirror five years ago, coming back from visiting Liv in Montréal. "What are you doing up?" Matching the eyes, Gail sounded exhausted.
"Can't sleep." She crossed her arms and leaned in the doorway.
Her mother looked concerned. "You okay?"
Why were parents always like that? "Uh, you're a moron, Mom." She walked in and sat on the other end of the couch. "You're the one who had the nightmare."
The look of guilt washed over Gail's face. "Crap," she muttered, rubbing her forehead.
"I'm sorry," sighed Vivian, pulling her knees up to wrap her arms around. "I didn't think… I didn't think—"
"Hey." Gail put her tablet down. "This is not your fault. It's not Holly's either. She knows that." Crossing her legs, Gail faced Vivian. "Look. You know my brain's a little broken. I don't get to be in charge of that."
Intellectually she knew that. When she'd been a child, knowing Gail had nightmares was both terrifying and comforting. It scared the hell out of her, seeing someone who was supposed to be the grown up, supposed to protect her, like that. Gail was supposed to be the guardian. She was the shield who kept Vivian and Holly away from he ugliness of the world. At the same time, Vivian had already seen the things people did to each other. She knew how grownups lied.
They'd been up at the cottage the first time she'd seen it. Before then, Vivian had heard snippets of it. Noises of her moms getting up in the night. Gail looking like ass in the morning. Holly hovering around Gail, trying to be supportive and not smothering. Both way too tense.
But the cottage. She'd been eight. Gail had fallen asleep under the tree behind the house. Vivian had been flinging herself off the rope swing over and over until Holly asked her to come inside. Holly was headed into town to pick up some groceries and Vivian said she'd stay if that was okay. After extracting a promise to stay out of the water until she got back, no swimming without supervision, Holly kissed her forehead and told her to let Gail sleep.
Not too long after, Gail had jerked awake. It looked like how it felt when you had a falling dream. Her whole body twitched and then Gail was sitting up, her eyes wide, sweating, and paler than normal. Vivian dropped the book she'd been reading (possibly The Hunger Games, that sounded right…) and Gail's head snapped over to stare at her.
The look was something Vivian hadn't seen before. She'd seen adults angry and hurt and worried. This was actual terror. This was something new and it scared the shit of her. Adults didn't get petrified. Adults were imperfect and screwed up and did stupid ass things. They could be evil and wrong, but they didn't get scared.
There had been a long talk after that. Gail explaining that she did still have nightmares. Which Vivian had known. They'd talked about that. But knowing and seeing were different. It put a spin on all those weird mornings. Suddenly her parents were fallible and human. But instead of scaring her, it made her feel better. Because she had nightmares. And she saw in Gail what she felt. And that meant she, Vivian Green, was normal.
It also meant when she heard her mother up in the middle of the night, Vivian would come and sit with her. Because she understood the pain of memories keeping you up at night. And that was why she sat up with Gail now.
"I know, Mom," she told her quietly.
Gail closed her eyes and leaned her head against the couch. "I really hate it," she muttered.
If it wasn't for that, though, would Gail be as understanding of Vivian's weirdness? "Can I hate that it's still a thing but like that it made you who you are?"
Her mother smiled. "I feel that way myself sometimes." With a sigh, Gail got up. "I'm going to try and sleep. You should too."
"Would if I could, Mom," sighed Vivian.
Gail ruffled Vivian's hair. "Promise me no Suicide Sprints today. Sleep in."
"This conversation feels backwards. Shouldn't I be trying to sleep in and you be trying to get me up?" Stretching, Vivian got up and followed Gail out, flicking off the light as Gail got to the bedroom door.
Lying in her bed, Vivian thought about how her mother having nightmares was a constant. Was it her fault, going out at night and then again in the morning, that Gail associated that with a case? Was it her fault Holly made a somewhat unfortunate word choice to try and calm her wife down that backfired?
Of course she knew the answer was no. But at the same time she didn't have the luxury her peers did of telling her parents they sucked and stomping out. She could move out, and probably should, but that wasn't the point. She had imperfect parents. Unlike everyone else she knew, Vivian felt that in her bones and loved them the more for it.
There wasn't a day she didn't see her moms as awesome people, but she also saw them as humans. She loved them for being her parents who took care of her. They felt that her happiness should be preserved above their own. How weird… Vivian suddenly understood the idiot parents who stayed together for their kids.
It was not a world she liked. She lived in a world where her parents worried about her more than other parents might, in ways that other parents didn't, because of who and what they were. They worried because they knew the truth of the world. They worried because they knew how dangerous her life was. And they still let her go and do the things that scared them.
That was more daunting than pretty much anything else in her life.
Vivian closed her eyes and tried to convince herself to sleep. It might work.
Filing the case as unsolved, again, pissed Holly off. It bothered her more than she let on to anyone. Except for Gail. And Gail understood those things. But here it was, another year gone by, and she was adding another case to her unsolved folder. It was a special folder filled with head bashings going back to when Gail had just moved in with her. There was another folder within that cross-linked back to cases stretching back longer than either of them had worked for the police.
"Where's Sherlock Holmes when you need him?" she asked herself, saving the last entry and closing the folder. "I bet Veronica Mars never put up with shit like this."
The unexpected voice of her wife replied, "Can you imagine if they'd never found out who killed Lilly Kane?" Turning, Holly saw Gail holding up a lunchbox. "You forgot lunch. I need a break from looking at drug running, which I hate. Your office means people won't walk in on me."
Holly smiled and pushed away from her desk. "If this was a TV show, we'd have sex on my desk at this point."
Rolling her eyes, Gail closed the door behind her. "You have a couch, which would be more comfortable. Also sex at work has never ended well. Ever."
"That sounded like the voice of bitter experience," teased Holly. She poured two glasses of water from her cooler. Everyone teased her about it, but it was cheaper than the filters and they didn't have to re-route pipes.
"Chris, making out in a cruiser. Nick… Evidence." Gail sat down and yawned. "Boys are easy."
"Evidence? Really? That's actually gross. I thought you were going to say something like how Andy had sex with Swarek, back in the old days."
Gail laughed. "Weirdly, we just tend to make out in public, though I have a sneaking suspicion some folks have gotten it on in the bathrooms at the Penny." She opened her own lunchbox and took out a salad. Leftovers from Saturday.
Wistfully, Holly remarked, "Back when we were young and hot, we used to make out in interrogation rooms."
"That's true," smiled Gail, leaning over and kissing her softly. "Hi."
This was nicer. "Hi."
"Thanks for letting me sleep in," said the blonde, pouring salad dressing on her food.
"Did you actually get some sleep?" Her wife nodded and Holly exhaled. "Good. Thank you for bringing me lunch, wifey."
The smile on Gail's face was still the one of wonderment and delight. "I'm a very good wife," she drawled. "Barefoot in the kitchen, cooking, cleaning, taking care of the baby."
Holly snorted. "The baby who has been texting us updates on where and when she'll be places? I think I scared her."
"I'd say I was upset, but … " Gail pushed her hair back. It was growing out again, a brownish red, slicked back and sexy. "I'm sorry I was a brat this weekend."
"You weren't," Holly said firmly. "You were worried with good, historical, reasons."
Gail leaned against Holly's shoulder. "I don't know if I can do this. I'm going to die a balled up wreck of nerves because my kid's a cop."
Patting Gail's knee, Holly asked, "Did you call your mom?" Gail nodded and picked at her salad. "And?"
"And after gloating, she had some advice. I'm not too crazy, it seems. And I kinda get why she used to spy on me and Ginger."
Holly snorted a laugh. "Please don't tell me you put a tracking device on Vivian's bike." Gail tried to look innocent but started laughing too soon. "You're terrible."
"You like me," smiled Gail.
"I'm very fond of you," Holly agreed, and kissed her cheek. "May I change the subject away from our child?"
"You may. But if it's about our vacation, yes, I have the time off, and unless Toronto devolves into an all out gang war, we're going to the cottage for a week sans child."
That had been one of Holly's questions, actually. "Is it that bad?"
"It's not good." Gail sighed. "The ends of Anton Hill's people are starting to pick fights with Three Rivers. The takeover isn't going so good."
"Think it'll end in deaths?"
"Usually does. Right now they're posturing. And we still can't find the head of the Rivers' people. They have so many shells... I had to get a damn forensic accountant to try and figure this shit out." Gail stabbed a piece of tuna. "Steve and Chloe are working on it."
Holly knew a lot more about crime than she had two decades ago. She'd always known about death and pain and the puzzles, but only by being with Gail had she learned about how the crimes before the crimes worked. "You have to admit, it's smart. It's kind of like the divisions. Each one covers an area and they all report on home to the chief."
Shaking her head, Gail smiled. "You're complimenting the ingenuity of the devil, darlin'," she teased.
"That was an Oliver-ism," chortled Holly. "Need me to be on the lookout for anything?"
And weirdly, Gail had an answer. "That crap they laced the weed with?"
Weed? Holly screwed up her face. "Wait, from a couple months ago? Unpack that one for me."
"So. My theory." Gail spun her fork between her fingers. "We never found his source, where the Fentanyl came from. He wasn't working for Hill's people. They were trying to get him. What if Hill has the dope and Rivers has the rest? Sneaky buy out. Make Hill dependent on 'em without them even knowing."
It was an interesting theory. "Who was it being accused of complimenting the devil? That's a lot of faith you're putting in their skills."
Gail snorted. "They've hidden from us for over twenty years."
"You weren't exactly looking," she pointed out.
"Hush. They didn't raise any red flags, they didn't trip our radars. They were damn smart, or lucky. They've always been lucky," noted Gail.
Holly leaned in and smiled. "Except when it comes to a certain set of dedicated Pecks."
A small flush touched Gail's face. It didn't take much to make the pink show, but Gail usually kept it well in check. "Which includes a rookie Peck right now," she grumbled, a smile touching the edge of her lips.
"Yeah." Holly reached over and tapped Gail's nose. "You're proud of her, thinking about all this."
"She'll get in over her head, like McNally, if she doesn't watch out," muttered Gail. But the smile was still there oh the corners of her mouth. So Holly smiled back that smile she'd always thought was really derpy and embarrassing and dorky. It was the smile where she only curved her mouth to one side. And Gail melted like butter on a stovetop. "Oh god, yes, fine, I'm proud of her for thinking about how their past is probably a key to what they're doing now, and maybe that the source of their name will tell us how they've formed things."
There it was. Holly kissed Gail's nose. "Besides the obvious about three rivers coming together, it's not a bad idea. Three brothers joined and all that."
Gail stared at her. "What?"
"Three brothers joined. Three unicorns in company, sailing in the noon day will speak. From what is from the light, that the light will dawn and then shines forth the eagle cross..." Holly trailed off as Gail was waffling between grinning and confusion. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
Her wife gave in to the grin and beamed. "When have you ever memorized anything artistic?"
"It's from a comic book," grimaced Holly. "Tintin. He's a boy reporter- you know what-"
"Hergé? Le Secret de la Licorne?"
Of course. Because if Gail had heard about Tintin, she'd heard about it in French and had probably read all of them. Holly had adored them as a child. She'd probably never have learned to read if not for them, but she was never telling Gail that. Her multilingual wife might never let her live it down. Well. Maybe if she knew how young Holly was when learning to read.
Holly tossed a hand up. "You know it in French."
She did, but Gail's face shifted as she recited. "Trois frères unys. Trois Licornes de conserve voguant au Soleil de midi parleront. Car c'est de la lumière que viendra la lumière. Et resplendira... And then I can't remember the coordinates... la † de l'Aigle. Holy fuck." Gail shot to her feet, pulling her phone out. "You're a goddamned genius, Holly."
"Thank you," smiled Holly. "What did I do?"
Gail's thumbs were flying on her iPhone. "Do you remember the name of the pot shop?"
Thinking for a moment, Holly replied, "Rainbow Happiness?"
"And its sister shop, Prancing Unicorn?" Gail was grinning her most evil smile. "That son of a bitch. Those utter assholes. Waving it in our damn faces."
Holly stared at Gail. "Hang on, you think Tintin comics are the clue to all this?"
"Yeah, I do," nodded Gail. "Think about it. Three brothers. A shop named Unicorn. Parchments. You roll weed in parchment. I never heard that damn poem in English!" Gail's phone rang. "I'm not insane Steve, I'm damned brilliant and so is my wife. Eagles. Crosses. Brothers. Find me something where three brothers meet. Okay?"
As her wife turned to the corner to argue with her brother about the case, Holly shook her head. If this turned out to be the answer to what Gail was working on, she wasn't going to let her wife forget about it for years.
Pulling out her own phone, Holly checked the inventory of the local comic book shop and put in a hold on a copy of the two issues that Gail would want. She didn't buy them, just in case, but she did text her mother and asked if they still had her copies of the comics. Her mother, now retired and highly prone to boredom, replied that she'd send them out that afternoon.
"Hey, Holly. Where can I get a copy of the books in English?"
"The comic shop on the corner by the butcher's. They're holding them for you." Holly waggled her phone.
Gail beamed and turned back around. "Thank you. Steve, you get that?" She recited the address of the comic shop. "Yes, perfect. Send a minion out to get them... What? No, idiot. You can't send your niece. That's called nepotism and you know it." Gail hug up and hooted.
"That is the hoot of excellence," said Holly, knowingly.
"That is the hoot of someone whose brother just found a pot shop called Rackham's Vibes."
If she'd been drinking, Holly would have snorted the liquid out her nose. "Isn't that trademark infringement?"
"Can't trademark a name. Doesn't explain Rainbow Happiness, mind. Anyway. We're going to check out the Rackham shop, I have a bet on if the owner's nickname is Red, and Steve is looking into the old owners of Rainbow."
"Try Marlenspike," joked Holly, and was slightly appalled that Gail wrote that down.
"You jest, Dr. Stewart, but if there's anything the losers I've arrested over the years have taught me, it's that they are nothing but predictable and idiotic."
Holly shook her head. "And yet you think they read a pretty esoteric comic."
Raising a finger, Gail said, "And a Spielberg movie." Oh right. That. "People think they're so smart," sighed Gail, happily.
"At least we are." Holly shook her head. "Finish your food, honey. You'll get a headache, thinking so hard you burn off the energy." Gail's metabolism was the seventh wonder of the world.
Leaning in, Gail kissed Holly fondly. "You are the best wife ever."
"I am," agreed Holly. "I am indeed. And so are you."
She'd been right about one thing years ago. Detective Gail Peck solving cases was a total turn on.
And we're back to that weird drug case. The two gangs may come to blows. Will we end up with Anton Hill's old gang on top, or the rebuilt Three Rivers? And who are the brains behind Three Rivers?
Tune in next time (two weeks) for "A Good Shoot" (ominous...)
Oh, and no, Gail's still not 'over' her nightmares. If you read "Old Habits Die Hard" it's explained more there, but essentially the drugs Perik used did damage her brain a bit, not enough to not be a cop, but enough that those memories are locked in. Toss on the PTSD, and she's always going to have nightmares now and then. She's far, far, better off than she was at the beginning of OWtO, but it comes back from time to time. I read a lot about Ketamine and ACP, and that shit is nasty. He was dosing her multiple times, too, just from what we saw on the show.
Also it's mentioned on OHDH that Holly's being treated for depression. It's very common for women, as they age, to suffer from it. I do. I've been treated for it for years. I hesitate to say Holly is 'fine' but it's really more manageable at this point. She and Gail take care of each other and themselves as best they can.
