1.06 - Fragments

The rookies are starting to gel as a group. Vivian's much less an outsider than she thinks she is. Certainly less than Gail was at the same timeframe. She has a different self image is all.

This story takes place in the somewhat near future, where everyone has and uses tablet computers, and Same Gender Marriage in the U.S. is old hat. I wrote the intro to this chapter around the time the U.S. passed the law to legalize gay marriage.


There were simple pleasures in life. Holding Gail's hand as they walked through the park near their house was one of them. Gail's fingers were laced through her own, not too sweaty. Of course, it was October and the market Gail loved all summer was gone a month, finally replaced by the autumn market. That meant it was chilly, but also that Gail wanted to wander and find fresh vegetables and foods.

As they walked through the stalls, Holly saw a pair of teenaged boys holding hands looking shyly proud of themselves. It was so different from the look of abashed defiance she'd seen in her youth. Back then, they were daring if they held hands with someone of the same gender. Homosexuals rarely kissed them outside of parades. But the boys were just carrying on with the same levels of awkward of any teen, just trying to figure out what romance was.

One of them caught her eyes, looked down a little and grinned at her, a blush tinging his face. Holly glanced down at her own hand, the tan fingers laced with Gail's pale ones, and smiled back.

When she'd been a young girl, the idea of having a girlfriend and holding hands was a pipe dream. First of all, Holly hadn't realized she was gay, or really what that meant at all, until she'd been kissing a boy and failed to understand all the fuss. Then she'd kissed a girl. And then it made sense. Secondly, as a girl there had been no concept of marriage for lesbians. Two boys, two girls, whatever. They didn't get married. Thirdly, and most important, Holly hadn't ever seen herself as the marrying sort.

And here she was, nineteen years married to an impish, unpredictable, goofy, loving woman. Now things like marriage equality was pretty much universal. Nearly every nation had given up the fight and accepted it as just another thing.

"Hey, Gail," she said as they paused at the crosswalk. "I like spending time with you."

"Useful," mused Gail, looking entertained. "Seeing as you just spent a day with me."

"Goof. I mean all the time. I like you."

Gail smiled. "What's going on in your nerdy brain that brought that on?"

"Pretty much everyone can get married now."

Her wife tilted her head and looked up. "All the Americas. All of Europe. Australia. Most of Asia..." Gail chuckled. "Remember when Russia finally passed the law?"

That had been fairly recently. The then new Prime Minister had announced that in the interests of human rights, they were withdrawing forces from Lithuania and that it was no longer punishable to be homosexual. He was the first Prime Minister since Putin to not be a member of the United Russia party, and instead was elected from the minority party A Just Russia.

That had kicked off a tidal wave of activity internally. By the end of his tenure, Russia had begun their plans to withdraw troops from the former Soviet Bloc. Then he became the President of Russia, a position he held until his death, and performed a gay marriage.

Everyone had become quite fond of him. His assassination was horrifying and, instead of destroying the work he'd done, made it even more solid. It cemented the change in Russia, and the new law had survived a coup and an invasion of Ukraine. Again. Some things never changed, and yet everything changed all the time.

"That was a good day," agreed Holly, squeezing Gail's hand. "This is too."

Gail made a face. "Going shopping and for a walk on Sunday morning is a good day?"

"Yes," Holly said firmly. "With you."

"You are being very weirdly romantic, you goof," laughed Gail, her canines flashing in delight.

"I think I'm allowed."

"Oh yes," agreed the blonde, leaning over to kiss Holly's cheek. "Very allowed. Always allowed."

They walked a little longer in silence. "Your birthday is next month," Holly noted.

Her wife winced. "No, no, I'm not having any more."

"Big five-oh," teased Holly. Gail let go of Holly's hand to jam her fingers in her ears and chant 'la-la-la' at the top of her lungs. "Goofball," she laughed, grabbing Gail's hand and squeezing it. "I already reserved the range that night. Oliver wants to throw a party at the Penny."

Gail pouted. "I hate the parties. And next year we have to have one for being stupid married twenty years, like it was some horribly difficult feat."

"I think it's to show off how awesome we are and how easy we make it look."

That gave her wife pause. "Oh. Well that's okay. We are awesome."

Grinning, Holly kept walking down the street. "That we are."

They were quiet for another block. "Holly, really, I don't want a big party. Can't we go shooting and then have drinks at the Penny and go home and try to make another baby?"

It wasn't what Holly expected Gail to say, and it made her laugh. The part about drinks, sure, but... "You're an idiot," she laughed.

"Oh really?"

"I'm a doctor, Gail, and that's not how it works."

Gail, impossibly impish, lifted her eyebrows. "I mean if you want to buy me a new toy..." And she leered.

"Never change," giggled Holly.

"Only in good ways," Gail promised, canines showing as she smiled back. Her phone rang and Gail sighed loudly. "Peck," she announced into the phone, making a face at Holly by way of apology.

Holly grinned and took the shopping bag from Gail and watched her walk off to the side of the path, head down, listening intently. Very carefully, Holly eased her phone out of her pocket and took a photo of Gail. The serious mien on her face was rare, and Holly sent it to Elaine.

Your daughter, Super Peck.

The reply text was amusing.

That is the look of someone annoyed to be bothered on her weekend.

Yeah. It was that face too. Gail caught her eyes and made a childishly goofy face. Propping her phone against her shoulder, Gail signed that it was the gang case. Carefully, Holly signed back asking if they needed to go home. The quick reply of 'no' was appreciated and Gail hung up a moment later.

"Saving the world?"

"Smoking the world." Gail shoved her phone away and mimed smoking a joint. "The bird angle is coming up short."

Holly arched her eyebrows. "Was that my lab?" She held out her free hand.

Shaking her head, Gail took Holly's hand. "Dr. Bishop."

"Ah, the very odd ornithologist."

Gail laughed. "If you think he's weird, he must be bizarre," she joked.

"Oh and you don't?"

"Oh I think he is very weird, Ms. Coatcheck."

"That's Dr. Coatcheck," Holly said, primly. "I didn't spent five years at Jacket Medical School to be Ms. anything."

With a smile, Gail leaned over and kissed her. "Mrs. Doctor Coatcheck, my bad."

"You married me," smiled Holly.

"You asked."

"You said yes."

They both grinned. They'd bantered like that for almost twenty years now. It didn't really matter who'd asked whom. They both knew that. It didn't matter in the slightest that Holly had been listed as Vivian's father until, at nineteen, the kid had taken herself to the courthouse to get it corrected. It mattered that they were still there and still them.

"You came when I needed you," noted Gail, her voice a little quieter.

"I'll always come," promised Holly, equally quietly. "Any time. Anywhere."

Those moments in time were Holly's favorites. They could repeat the conversations, the fragments of instances in their lives, a hundred times. The meanings remained. They were the moments to make you smile.


The worst part about living at home, besides the fact that she'd accidentally walked in on her moms on the couch, again, for the fifth time since summer ended, was that she caught an earful from both parents for the scrape on her arm.

"Wow, Peck, what happened to you?" Jenny bumped into her as Vivian was rolling down the sleeves on her uniform shirt.

"I slipped in some mud," she sighed. Vivian hated the long-sleeved shirts. They felt restrictive.

Jenny took hold of Vivian's wrist and pushed the sleeve up. "And went to the ER? Nice bandage."

With a grimace, Vivian pulled her arm back. "No. My mom's a doctor. You know that."

"A dead people doctor."

"And a mother. She over-reacts sometimes." Holly had been concerned with infection and, after Vivian's shower, plunked her down for some antibiotic cream and a medical grade wrap. Gail had laughed. A lot.

"So no stitches?" Jenny smirked and elbowed Vivian as they walked into parade.

"Yes," deadpanned Vivian. "Eight stitches. And she did it in the kitchen." There was a brief pause when Jenny looked like she bought it, and Vivian shoved her shoulder. "You're an idiot, just so you know."

There was a story Uncle Steve loved to tell, when he and the other Old Guard were a couple beers in, about how Holly had stitched his back up in the kitchen of the old townhouse. Vivian knew the townhouse. They'd lived there for a short time when she'd just moved in, but then they moved to their current house. The summer she'd first heard the story, Steve explained he'd been sitting in the kitchen waiting for them to get back in the middle of the night.

Of course Gail corrected him and pointed out he'd been sitting in the floor, and he'd watched them making out for almost a minute before announcing his presence. Steve countered that his sister had been making fast work on Holly's shirt, which meant it was not his fault that lesbian porn just happened in front of him, and that ended with a sibling tussle. It was hard to remember why she'd even once been nervous around Steve, but Vivian recalled as she had been.

As they sat down at the tables, Vivian glanced over at Nick. She was afraid of him as a child too. Now that she remembered a little more about her father, the fear of Nick made less sense. Nick was nothing like her father. But the brain was a funny place.

"Who doesn't love the zoo?" Dov strolled in from the side door, holding a notebook. When no one answered, he looked up. "No one? Don't answer that, Peck," he pointed at her.

Vivian smiled. "Yes, sir." Holly hated zoos, and everyone who knew that laughed at Vivian and Dov's conversation. Any place that caged animals for show and tell was evil to her soft-hearted mother. Gail shared the sentiment, though. The only times Vivian had gone to the zoo had been with schools.

"We have a party at the zoo today. They're hosting Oktoberfest."

A surprised murmur ran through the room. "But boss, that's supposed to be at the parking lot of Ontario Place!" Duncan spoke as he was raising his hand in confusion.

"The lot flooded. Water pipe burst over the weekend and the zoo offered up their lot. So you guys get to enjoy that last bit of warmth in the out of doors! Rookies, you'll be patrolling the event. Let them be drunk, but stop the disorderly. McNally is in charge. Moore, you get to guard the parking lot while they clean it up. Serve, protect, don't drink the beer till you're out of uniform." The officers laughed and as they got up, Dov added, "Anyone who wants to volunteer to work Thanksgiving, sign up by end of the week. If I don't get enough, I'm drawing from a hat."

Vivian texted Gail, asking if she should volunteer for the holiday work, and went to get her kit. Vests and cameras were de riguer for this sort of thing. As she was strapping in, Nick came up.

"Ever been to Oktoberfest?"

"Couple times," admitted Vivian. "I went last year with some classmates."

"I haven't been in years," muttered the older man.

Right. Because Nick didn't drink at all. She'd never gotten the story on that. "Are you coming to supervise us?"

"No, I'm off to liaison with Anderson about a case you don't get to know about, rookie. Go listen to McNally and Josephs."

Vivian snapped a jaunty salute. "Yes sir, Officer Collins, sir," she grinned.

"You're way too impish, Little Peck," he sighed, but his eyes smiled at her. They were Uncle Nick eyes.

"It could be worse. I could be like Steve." As soon as she said it, Nick laughed and the noise followed her out.

Andy was waiting with Josephs, and tossed her keys. "Peck, take 1504 and Aronson. You stay by the great cats today."

She caught the keys on the air. "1504. What did I do to you, McNally?" The veteran cop laughed at her.

As she and Jenny buckled up, the other legacy cop asked, "Is 1504 the cursed one?"

"Oh yeah," nodded Vivian. "It's been shot, set on fire, hit by a car... Actually I think this is the one McNally drove when Ger- Duncan- Moore was hit in the head by an axe."

Jenny didn't miss it. "Duncan?"

"His step-father is my mom's god-father." Backing up, Vivian added, "Al Santana. Former police chief."

Jenny's head snapped around. "Dumb Ass Duncan is the chief's son!?"

"Step-son. And former chief. Uncle Al was cool. Duncan's always been thick." Her partner for the day snorted and Vivian smiled. She missed Uncle Al.

After a few blocks, Jenny remarked, "You're cooler than I thought you were at the academy."

Cool? No one called her cool. "Me?"

"Yeah, you were all quiet and ... Aloof. Like you had better things to do than to hang out with us."

Vivian shook her head. "Besides pass near the top of the class, no, not really."

"Peck," sighed Jenny. "I would've changed my name."

"I did."

Jenny eyed her. "Wait a second… You changed your name to Peck?"

"Yep!" Vivian popped the P just like Gail did.

"Huh. I don't know why but I guess I assumed you were adopted as a baby."

"Nah, I was six and a bit."

Shaking her head, Jenny made an annoyed sound. "That's insane. Did you think you were gonna get a free pass on stuff as a cop?"

Vivian sighed. "Honest to god, that was the last thing on my mind when I did it." She frowned a little, wondering how to explain it without having to explain everything. "It's just a thing. Okay?"

Her partner eyed her. "A crazy ass thing. Man, I would've taken Dr. Stewart's name— Oh! Is that what the S is for?" When Vivian nodded, Jenny sighed. "You're cool, Peck. You're a little crazy and totally weird, though."

"Tell me something I don't know," sighed Vivian. She pulled the car up at the zoo and eyed the setup for the beer-fest. "Okay, so if the party is here, why are we patrolling the inside?"

Jenny unbuckled. "Josephs told me that they got a nearly free pass to the zoo with the purchase of the beer pass, or whatever it was called. It's the off season, so I guess the zoo wants to attract people."

That made sense, realized Vivian. "Damn them for being all sensible." Locking the car, she flipped on her video. "4727, Peck. At the zoo for bratwurst and the inevitable boob shot."

The other woman laughed. "4749, Aronson. Oktoberfest at the Zoo." She settled her belt. "Why do you wear your gun that far forward?"

Vivian looked down. "I have an uncle who used to pluck 'em from behind." Oliver had spent a month teaching that trick to Vivian, and subsequently how not to be fooled by it. She paused at the gate and smiled brightly at the perplexed ticket taker. "Hi, we're your muscle."

Moments later, they were ushered in and Vivian picked up a map to study. "You need a map? I thought you were born and raised in Toronto."

"I haven't been to the zoo since I was in elementary school. Don't like caged animals." Vivian folded the map and put it in a thigh pocket. When she realized Jenny hadn't said anything, she looked over, questioningly.

"You've got layers, Peck."

Great. She was an onion. "Is that a compliment?"

"I'm just saying. I've known you, what, nine months now? You've got, like, all these secrets and layers and stuff. You're a person, and a kinda cool one."

Vivian eyed Jenny thoughtfully. "I can honestly tell you that very few people have ever, seriously, referred to me as cool."

"Then you knew some real losers," announced Jenny, firmly. "And since I, clearly, am not a loser, then you are going to buy us coffee."

It was weird, but Vivian thought she kind of liked being liked. She rolled her eyes at her partner. "Okay, fine, I'll buy our coffee."


Everyone knew Gail had some problems.

She was almost fifty, she was bitchy and sarcastic, and had a dark sense of humor. She'd struggled with self-esteem issues in her youth, putting on an anti-anything façade fairly early on in life. She didn't trust easily, though that was her parents fault, pretty much making sure she would never feel as if she could rely on anyone else.

But today, at that aforementioned nearly fifty, and for god's sake could everyone please stop planning the party, Gail was confident and steady. She'd been a cop just over half of her life, hitting the twenty-five year marker with her classmates just the year before. She'd been a detective for almost twenty years. She knew her shit and she knew it well.

She also knew when she was being bullshitted by a suspect. In this case, the suspect was a purported member of the Three Rivers gang.

In the interview room was one of her newer detectives, who had followed Gail's directions to the letter. First you asked the suspect for the story, writing down notes on the left column of the notebook (if you can't memorize it on the fly). Every time he said 'then' or 'And so...' you made a new paragraph. Then you went backwards and asked about each point in reverse order. People memorized a story in one direction, so that method had a tendency to trip up the obvious liars.

Alas, their loser wasn't lying about the events. He'd been tasked with delivering drugs. Nothing big and nothing illegal. Just take the weed from the labs, sign for it, and take it to the right dispensary. The illegal part was, on the way, he was to stop at an underpass, wait for someone to come by, open the back of the truck, and then take the drugs to their designated locations.

A little shady, one agreed.

The problem was that he claimed left, right and centre that he didn't know who the people were who messed with the drugs. And Gail didn't believe him.

"He's lying," she said to Traci.

"As the day is long." Her sister in law sipped her coffee. "Gonna go in?"

"In a bit." Gail put her ubiquitous DAD mug down. It was her fourth or fifth iteration. The first had been stolen from Oliver. That one broke when her car blew up. The replacement was a present for adopting Vivian, even though Holly had been named as the father on the forms. That cup broke when a gunman shot into the Division. The third was the one Gail bought herself, broken by Duncan, who bought... Oh right. The one Duncan bought had the stupid rose on it and Gail had let Vivian shoot that one.

That made this number five and the one her actual kid bought for Father's Day, making a joke that Holly was her dad, since she was listed as 'father' on the paperwork. They'd never changed that, even though it was free to do. They all found it too funny.

Gail smiled at the mug. Her daughter had quite a bit of interest in this case. She'd tried to dissuade Vivian, but the girl held on to her attraction. It was something Gail understood, the niggling feeling that there was something deep in the meanings and ideas. There was. There had to be.

Beside her, Traci sighed. "Steve's up a wall about this case. Every time he finds something, he just gets more and more layers."

They hadn't been this smart before. They were better at secrets and possibly more educated. The layers were deep. "So... What? You think this guy's just another layer?"

Traci shook her head. Then she nodded. "I don't know. He doesn't know anything."

"He doesn't seem to know anything," corrected Gail. "Watch my mug. I like this one." She ignored Traci's laugh as she opened the door to interrogation.

Her quasi rookie was leaning on the table. "Before that, though," he said slowly.

"God, before that was what I told you. I got up, I got the phone call, I went to the delivery." The criminal looked up at Gail, confused.

"Hello, Topher." She sat down at the table. "Too many people named Christopher in your school?"

He nodded a little. "Yeah."

"We've had a few here," Gail mused. "So. Why?"

Topher blinked a little. "Why?"

"Yeah. Why."

"I don't... Why what? Why am I here? Shit, you arrested me!"

Gail looked up at her detective. "We arrested him? Detained. Jim, go check on that, will you?" Her detective nodded and went out of the room. Gail studied the young man before her. "We ran a background on you. Top of your class at UCC."

Young Topher looked at the table. "Scholarship," he muttered.

"Yeah, that's not easy either. You're a smart guy. Why all this?" He didn't answer. Gail leaned back in her chair. How best to lower the bar, she mused. "They trust you a lot for delivering drugs. It looks like it's something for a simpleton. You know? Drive around and follow directions. But for that, you have to be someone dependable. Reliable. Smart."

Topher looked up at her with guarded eyes. "What do you know?"

She knew those eyes, for one. She'd seen them day in and day out for years, mostly in the mirror, but also in her brother. The eyes were someone who wore the burden of expectations. Tactic change. "I'm a legacy," she told him. "My folks did this, my kid does it. We all do it. This is who we are." Gail waved a hand around the room. "I didn't dream of being a ballerina or a pirate or anything."

The guarded eyes widened a little. "They didn't give you a choice," he whispered.

"We are what we are made to be, Topher." Leaning forward, Gail rested her elbows in the table. "Why?"

Her blue eyes met Topher's brown and he looked away, abashed and ashamed. "It's like you said," he muttered. "I am what I was made." He twisted his fingers together. "They're the big success, y'know? They're the ones who are better than what we were made. They figured it out. I'm just bringing up the rear."

"They?"

Topher narrowed his eyes. "Brothers and blood before drugs," he said softly.

Brothers. Three brothers. "Bobby Zanaro's dead, you know," she drawled. He wasn't. He was in WitSec. The world just thought he was dead. "Got ousted by his own gang twenty years ago."

Her perp shook his head. "He ain't that old."

What? Gail wanted to sit up straight and grab Topher's collar, physically shaking him down to explain that. She had to play it cool. She had to stay still. "Bobby ain't that old? Kid, he could be my old man."

Topher shook his head again. "Nah, nah, senior's dead. Blue ain't."

Blue? That was a name, clearly. But calling Bobby 'senior' meant one thing and one thing only. Bobby had a kid. That son of a bitch... Playing it as cool as she could, Gail asked, "Blue's back?"

"Yeah, totally on the QT." Topher tilted his head. "I want immunity."

Twenty years ago she couldn't offer that protection. She'd had to bluff and lie about it back then. Twenty years her silence in that moment of indecision, that pause where she tried to fabricate a lie, had bought her the biggest win of her career and catapulted her into success and was the stepping stone to what she was today. It had taught her a lasting lesson, one she held on to. Wait. Be patient. Don't promise anything. Just give them a place to talk, and listen.

She waited, thoughtfully. She leaned back in her seat and looked at Topher, considering things. He wasn't cracking. He needed something to push him over that edge. So as the tension built, as he started to twitch, she said one word.

"Why?"

He broke. He told her that Bobby's son, in his late twenties, was in charge. Bobby 'Blue' Zanaro Jr. He'd gone to the States with his mother back when the gang had ousted Bobby back when Gail had been in uniform. Bobby hid the kid well. Topher knew because his older brother had been in school with Blue in Michigan, and when Blue had come back, the gang welcomed him back and apologized about his father.

At least they all thought Bobby was dead.

But Bobby's kid seemed to find that living well, in his dad's old job, was the best revenge.

Topher told her that Bobby (aka Blue) was going by James Yorke, which she'd get the boys to run, but he sounded like the kind of smart kid who knew how to hide. No. Scratch that. She knew he knew how to hide. That kid had hid his takeover for the last five years. He'd taken the broken gang and re-formed it. He'd taken a shattered gang, that had split into a thousands parts, and brought it back together.

What Topher didn't know was how. Or why. He just knew what.

Technically they'd known that too, but now they had some insight into why even if Topher didn't. Revenge was a great motivator.

"Okay, Topher. If this pans out, if we can verify that Blue is legit and for real, we can deal."

Topher exhaled. "I promise, man- woman- ma'am. Legacy to legacy. I never wanted this."

Part of Gail wondered if that's what she could have been like. Scratch that. It was what she was like. She had taken down her own mother, after all. She never wanted this either. "Okay," she said carefully.

"My mom... My mom's Zanaro," Topher breathed. "Blue's my cousin."

That put a spin on it. His mother was a Zanaro. Maybe he knew. "Just one thing," she asked as she stood up. "The name. Three Rivers. Bobby's- Bobby Sr.'s old man had two brothers."

Her little witness looked confused. "Yeah?"

"Where's the name from. Three Rivers?"

Topher shook his head. "I thought it was the, y'know, rivers." He shrugged.

Gail nodded. "Right. Sit tight."

Letting herself out, Gail tasked one of her guys, her super-rookie Pedro, with getting all the details out of the now chatty Topher. Then she sent the background info to the computer nerds for a check on how the hell they'd missed Bobby Zanaro Jr. And then, only then, did she tell John that she was going to try and think through what she had.

Bobby Zanaro Sr. He'd been a lieutenant in Three Rivers. He was ousted by the young bucks, all of whom Gail had shut down and bounced to Major Crimes on her laurels. They'd known that some of the old guard for the gang had lingered, but mostly as a social club. If she believed Topher, and she had no reason not to just then, then within the last five years, Blue had come in and rebuilt the gang to the point he could take over Anton Hill's people. That was pretty fucking impressive, she had to admit.

But damn it all, that had to be bigger than just Blue. The way the gang was segmented right now meant he had to have some lieutenants. And the fact that Topher didn't know about that was interesting. Three brothers. Three pot shops. Three rivers.

Three leaders? Still?

The three major rivers of Toronto were the Don, the Humber, and the Rogue. Gail was aware her daughter had a theory that the name was tied into the Don and its tributaries. Steve's idea was that it was related to the three brothers. But Gail... Well she remembered her trips through Europe as a teenager.

One of the kinds of stories she'd heard over and over again was how such-and-such street was named for a river that dried up or was diverted. And there were thousands of towns and cities where there were three rivers joined. Of those cities, how many had lost the smaller rivers and now where only known for one or two? Some, like the one she'd seen in Los Angeles, was barely a river at all. Or what if it was stupid simple and they came from Trois-Rivieres over in Quebec?

Of course there was the other idea. What if the symbolism of the Three Rivers gangs pulling all the little guys back in wasn't so much symbolism but fact. Steve had told her time and again how a crew didn't name gangs on a whim, they did it because it had a feel. A vibe. A character. They held on to their names when the names had meanings.

But if she pushed that metaphor further, there was the idea that perhaps the river being underground had merit. Many of Toronto's rivers were like that now. They'd dried up and vanished, only to revert to underground streams.

Gail groaned and covered her face. She was getting too deep into the meaning for people who thought using ambulances for body dumps were the height of brilliance.

"That's not a good sound," remarked Holly, leaning in the doorway,

"I'm stuck," Gail sighed and rested her chin in her hands. "What brings you to my building?"

Waving a blue folder, Holly came in and closed the door. "The courier was sick, or something," she said and smiled that awkward little grin that Gail loved.

There was no way Gail wouldn't smile back at that one. With a grin she held out a hand and Holly gave her the files as well as a mostly chaste kiss. "I love it when he's sick."

"I have a meeting with your Lt. Brown. I thought we could do lunch after? You know you think better when you're fueled."

"Did you bring your lunchbox?"

Holly held up her little lunchbox. "Of course. My sexy wife filled it with leftovers from her latest attempt at Belgian food."

They'd had rabbit that weekend and, weirdly, had leftovers. "One bunny too many," mused Gail. She'd worried that Holly, the soft heart, would have issue with the dish, but it was Vivian who'd declined the fancy feast and made a sandwich instead.

"It was wild hare, and we have an infestation," Holly remarked.

Gail took the lunchbox and stashed it beside her own in her mini fridge. "Well that is entirely true. What lab work did you fake to bring over?"

"The idiot you were interrogating this morning? Had a laced doobie."

"Your age is showing, Doc. I don't think anyone besides our moms call it that anymore," teased Gail.

With a huff, Holly flipped open the results. "No one asked your opinion, Peck. The Fentanyl matches the second batch of your stuff."

That was good. Gail pulled up the earlier results. "Huh. Maybe they just switched brands. I'm going to have one of my guys run that down. What if a pharmco changed their formula by coincidence?"

"I thought you didn't believe in coincidence," muttered Holly.

"I don't. But I believe in lazy ass losers. Go chat with Brown, I'll do this, then we can eat outside?"

"Have I mentioned how sexy it is that you have an office?" Holly leaned across the desk and kissed Gail again, a little less chastely than before. "And I really like all that swag on your dress uniform."

Gail snorted. "Never call it that again." She stood up and walked around the desk to get a proper hug and kiss from her wife and escort her to the elevator. On her way back, she eyed the room of detectives. "Reyes. Go find your partner and meet me in my office. I have some work for you."

It was nice to have minions to send out to do the dirty work, sometimes.


"Beer, bratwurst, and behinds," muttered Vivian as she got into Gail's car.

"Oh, you had Oktoberfest?" Her mother laughed. "That always brings out the full moon."

"We arrested four guys who were mooning the great apes and slapping their butt cheeks!"

Gail held a straight face for a moment and then laughed. "Wow. What did the monkeys do?"

"They slapped their asses right back." Vivian grinned. "I got it on video. Dov said it was going to be on the news." She and Jenny had just stared for a moment, unable to believe what they were seeing. They let it go on longer than they should have, until the zookeeper said it was probably about to become a display of aggression and the apes would start throwing poop.

"Ooooooh," teased the blonde. "Did you get interviewed?"

Vivian flipped her mother off and leaned back. The zoo had been interesting. Jenny had pointed out all the spots she went to with her parents, and how she used to spend hours watching the meerkats. Most of the time, Vivian had gone to museums. "Hey, how long has Mom had depression?"

"A while. Why?"

"I was thinking about when I went to the zoo for school and she burst out crying." Vivian propped her feet up on the dashboard.

Gail smiled. "That's not related. She's always hated zoos, kiddo. But. Good call. Don't tell her where you were."

"Not exactly where I was going," mused Vivian.

Her mother glanced over. "Oh? Still thinking about the stuff we inherit?"

"Yeah, that."

There was a little pause. "You know, it didn't surprise me." Gail sighed a little. "I mean, she's an only child for a reason. Lily had real bad postpartum depression, and Brian... Well he's like me a little. So I was kinda waiting for it."

"That... That's really sad, Mom."

"Sad? I don't see it that way at all, Viv. See... I love your mom. Being ready for what might happen, knowing what to expect, means I can be ready to take care of her. Your mom's always there for me, every time I need her. Every time I ever called, she was there. It's the least I can do to be there for her when she needs me."

And like that, Gail had taken something simple and sad and turned it into a drop dead romantic comment that made you realize how much she cared. Maybe it wouldn't be so powerful if Gail acted like she liked people more often. Gail tolerated most people, distrusted them, and relied on very few. But that was why Gail's hugs, when you were sad or scared, were the best.

Vivian looked at her shoes for a while. "Okay. That's better."

"Glad my adoration of my wife meets your approval." They both chuckled. "We're picking up meat from the butcher. Greek chicken and lemon potatoes."

"Hummus? Oh, and that eggplant thing?"

"Melitzanosalata?" Gail nodded. "Yeah. And some pita. We can whip that up while-" Her phone rang and Gail held a finger up to Vivian. It was a work call. The rule was that Viv was allowed to listen in on these calls, but she had to be silent. "Siri. Answer phone." The phone beeped over the car speakers. "Peck, I'm driving."

"Hey, boss, it's Pedro."

"Pedro. What'd you find about Blue?"

"Little Boy Blue is legally Simon Montrose, which ain't the name our wit gave up. Mom's Eva, dad is unknown. Moved to Michigan when he was eight, which is when Bobby Z. went into WitSec."

The frown on Gail's face was telling. She didn't like this story. "How close to when?"

"A week after Bobby was picked up by... Uh... Shaw and Peck- oh." Pedro laughed awkwardly. "I'm going to skip over that."

Gail glanced at Vivian with a smirk. "Yeah, did he do college as Montrose?"

"No, he went as Anson Russ. Then he used the name Rick Murray when he moved back to Toronto-"

"Wait!" Gail slapped the steering wheel. "Pedro, the name Topher gave us, James Yorke. Did you run a full check on it?"

"Yeah but-"

"Middle name is Tiberius?"

There was a pause. "How the fuck... I mean, uh, yeah. Yeah it is." Pedro sounded mystified.

"That son of a ... Okay, look up Campbell Saunders, Campbell with a P, and Adam Torres. Get me their histories. Same age and patterns as the others. See if you can string a history of when he's swapping names and why."

"Sure thing. Tonight?"

"No. Start tomorrow, but I want this at the top of your priority list, Pedro."

"Right."

"Anything special you think I need to know right away?"

Pedro hesitated. "His mom's dead. Cancer. And Topher's mother is related to Zanaro. Turns out Bobby senior's uncles all had daughters. So he's, like, the youngest son of the youngest Zanaro who founded the gang."

"Any luck getting a bead on the girls?"

Another hesitation. "Kinda. I figured you'd want to know who was about Blue's age and still in town. But the oldest one, Bobby Sr.'s cousin, is in Barrie, teaching English, and her kids are hell to breakfast."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Pedro. Which ones are in Toronto?"

"So far I found one. Her mom is the daughter of Barry, the eldest brother of Bobby Sr... Jesus this is fucked up boss. Anyway, she's still in town, works for an accountant named Reynolds. Should I bring her in...?"

"No. Not yet. Just keep tabs on her. See if she has any gang ties. Get Steve to loan you someone to help."

"You got it, boss."

As the phone disconnected, Gail pulled into the butcher's parking lot with a shit eating grin. "You catch the names, kid?"

Vivian frowned. "James Tiberius Yorke? Adam Torres- wait a second. Are those all people who died on Degrassi?"

"Whatever it takes, apparently."

That was all the information Vivian got about the gang case. Sometimes she thought that all cases were solved quickly, like the time Gail and John solved their famous Khan killer case in a long weekend. But the reality was that most cases took weeks and months, if not years, because they had to find the information and then build up the proof slowly and carefully.

Being a cop was mostly paperwork and boring, separated by moments of sheer terror. That was what Oliver told her. He told her about how she'd miss things in life, like how he'd not seen Izzy's home runs in school. Vivian knew that. There had been times Gail had missed her school events, like the play, because she had to work. And the same was true for Holly, who missed the first soccer game Vivian started as a striker.

Sometimes a person sacrificed themselves to be a part of something bigger.

She was an idealist sometimes and a realist the rest of the time. Oliver came from a good, safe place. His parents were nice, caring, people. His kids were nice, wholesome kids. Except Izzy. She was the mild delinquent who had done drugs and made some shitty choices as a teen. But Jerry was sweet and honest and adorable.

The things about being a cop that ate at Oliver weren't the ones that would eat Vivian, and she knew it. He was eaten alive when people betrayed him. She expected it, and was still confused and surprised that her classmates had her back. That was something Dov told her would happen, but stronger than that was the story he'd told about the time none of them had Gail's back and she took a fall for them.

That was the reality Vivian expected. Cops were people and people were venal and selfish and scared. People made mistakes. And sometimes, less often than the news would have you believe, people died because of mistakes.

That's what ate at Vivian. The fear of her mistakes hurting people. The fear that if people knew the potential ticking time bomb within her, the possible insanity, that she'd lose what she wanted. And that was simple. She wanted no one to feel the way she had when she found her birth family dead.

Maybe she should have gone into social work, like Sophie.

"4727, Dispatch."

Her radio startled her. She was supposed to be patrolling by the former elephant dens. They were in some weird status after it was determined that penned elephants was cruelty. Holly would have said 'no shit!' to that. The staff mentioned they were expanding the area to allow the nearby animals to have more room. None of which was the point. "Dispatch, 4727."

"4749 needs assistance by the ice cream stand," explained Dispatch, sounding very close to laughter.

Vivian smiled. "Copy, I'm on my way." If Dispatch was laughing then it couldn't be all bad. Or even partly bad. Vivian pulled the map out of her pocket and double checked the route to the ice cream stand. When she got there, Vivian actually snorted a laugh.

Jenny was surrounded by children. They all wore the sweatshirt of a private elementary school Vivian remembered playing sports against at one point in time. And they were all clamoring. No, they were yelling at Jenny about how they were alone. And they were not listening to her at all. "One word, Peck, one word..."

It was hard not to grin. "Where's their teacher?"

"Thank you, Officer Obvious," snapped Jenny.

One of the kids eyed them. "Her name tag says Peck. Officer Friendly is a Peck too." The young boy eyed her. "Are you related?"

There was one Peck who did Officer Friendly work. "That's my cousin," confirmed Vivian. "Short guy, blonde hair, real pale?" The kid nodded. "His name's Freddie, with an ie."

The boy smiled. "How can you be cousins if you don't look alike?"

"We're distant cousins. My grandfather and his grandfather were cousins first." She glanced around. "Freddie's the shortest of all of us."

That made the boy laugh, and some of his friends stopped arguing about what they were supposed to do. "Are you all cops?"

"Almost," she nodded. "I have another cousin who's a firefighter."

A young girl chimed in. "Did you always want to be a cop?"

"Pretty much. What about you guys? Firefighters or cops?" A couple hands went up. "I'll tell you a secret. Firefighters suck at softball." The children laughed at her. "So hey, what's up with you guys being on your own?"

"Mrs. Herrick went to the bathroom like an hour ago!" The boy who'd befriended her first was chatty. "She said to wait here."

Ten kids. One teacher? "Where's her assistant?" They kids startled. "Come on, we're coppers. We're supposed to be smart," grinned Vivian. "There should be another teacher with her."

"Mr. Clemons was sick," explained a girl. "But we're the best behaving class, so Mrs. Herrick said we could go if we behaved."

"And if we don't, we don't get to go on any more excursions this year," said the boy.

"Well. Okay, Aronson, why don't you check the bathroom for the teacher, and I'll stay here."

Jenny looked astounded at Vivian. "How the... How come they listen to you?"

"Peck secret. Kids love us." Vivian, tapped her radio. "Dispatch, 4727. I got ten school kids and a possibly missing teacher." She rattled off the school information and teacher name.

"Copy that, 4727. We'll contact the school."

The kids heard that and groaned. "Sorry, kids. There are drunk idiots here. Can't let you run around without a grown up." She thumbed her radio. "Copy, Dispatch. Hold on backup, please."

The chatty boy sighed. "This sucks. We didn't get to see the snakes yet."

"Snakes, huh?" Vivian smiled. "Did you at least get ice cream?" They all shook their heads. "See, now that really sucks. I can't have any until my lunch."

Her radio crackled. "This is 4749." Jenny was on the radio and she sounded a little freaked. That wasn't good. Was the teacher in need of medical assistance? No, it was something worse. "10-33. I have a 10-100 here."

Vivian blinked. She knew that code. That was the code Oliver used in the story about how Gail sat on a car bomb. Oh. Oh fuck. "4749, this is 4727. Copy. Dispatch, 10-78." Her voice was calm. How the hell was her voice calm? "Please update the school."

"4749, Dispatch. Copy. Switch to channel 8. 4727, two units on their way."

As much as she wanted to switch channels, Vivian did not. "Copy." She looked at the kids. "I got bad news, guys." All the kids groaned again. "Yeah, I know. My partner's in there, taking care of your teacher. We're gonna have to get you guys home."

Immediately they started throwing questions at her.

"Is she sick?"

"What's a 10-100?"

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Is she dead?"

One kid even pulled out his phone. Shit. Anyone could google that stuff.

Vivian cleared her throat. "10-100 is a special code to tell us what kind of help we need. It's faster than saying things like how we need a specific team with tools to help someone stuck in a well." The kid with the phone looked up. "Here's what's going to happen. Some of my friends, they're going to come and escort you guys away, back to your bus. They're gonna wait with you till the driver and a teacher show up to take you back to school. What I need you guys to do is check your bags, make sure you have all your stuff, and get ready."

Most of the kids did so right away. They really were well behaved. The chatty boy frowned. "Can't you stay with us?"

"I would, but that other officer is my partner," Vivian explained. "We have to stick together. That way, if she needs my help, I'm right here."

"But you weren't together before, when she found us." He was smart.

"I was here in a minute," Vivian pointed out. "If I go with you guys, I'll be too far away."

That seemed to work. To Vivian's relief, the backup was Andy and Nick and their partners. Andy took the kids, Nick took charge of clearing the area. And Vivian... Well. She didn't lie to the kids. Jenny was her partner. She flipped to channel 8 and started for the bathroom.

"Hey, Peck," Nick called at her. "What're you doing?"

"I'm going to help my partner, Collins. That's my job, right?"

He studied her face and nodded. "Don't touch anything."

"No shit," she snorted and went in. "Hey, Jenny?" Vivian rounded the corner and saw Jenny standing by a terrified woman at the sink. A kid's backpack was on the edge, and the woman had one hand in it. "Hi. You're Mrs. Herrick?" The woman nodded. "Your kids are fine. We've got officers taking them back to the bus."

Mrs. Herrick exhaled loudly. "Thank god. I can't believe none of them came in here..."

Vivian smiled. "Funny story. They said you told them to stay there, and they didn't want to lose field trips for the rest of the year." The teacher laughed a little shakily.

Jenny looked appreciative. "See? It's all okay. Now, can you let me look?"

The teacher hadn't let her look yet? That wasn't good. How did they know it was a bomb? Mrs. Herrick used her free hand to open the bag up. Both Vivian and Jenny leaned over. "I thought it was one of my kids' bags. So I picked it up and checked and..."

Jenny's eyes were wide. "Yeah... No. You did the right thing. Where's your phone?"

The teacher's hand was on the pipe. "I was afraid to use it. I've seen movies where that sets it off."

"No, it would have to be a special number that calls it," promised Vivian. She thumbed her radio. "This is 4727. It's a backpack pipe bomb," Vivian reported. "Looks like a remote detonator, or time. Not pressure sensitive. Subject has her hand on the pipe."

"Copy that, 4727. ETF is five out. Don't move it."

Muttering no shit, Vivian acknowledged the direction more calmly. "Don't worry. Our ETF guys are the best." Vivian pulled her phone out and took photos, texting them to Nick. They'd all had to study bombs some in the academy. Every one of them could recognize the common types of IEDs, or at least they could when they'd graduated. Remembering them months later was a different story for most of them. Still, Vivian was pretty sure the teacher could let go and be fine, which she texted to Nick as well.

His reply was to not fucking mess with the bomb. Nick was such a pain in the ass sometimes.

"You guys do this every day?" The teacher was shaking.

Jenny laughed softly. "First time," she admitted. "And it's Peck's second time to the zoo ever."

It wasn't true, but the joke made Mrs. Herrick laugh a little. The tension bled off her shoulders. "It's Ms. Herrick," she noted. "Melanie Herrick. Mel. The kids call everyone Mrs or Mr."

"So no Mr. Herrick to call?" Jenny kept her voice light.

"No Mrs. Herrick either," sighed Mel. "Sorry. I just ... I don't want to die in the closet."

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Well. You're not gonna die, Mel. The head of ETF? Her name's Sue Tran, and she's the biggest badass you'll ever meet. Cool as a cucumber, and her guys are the best."

The teacher swallowed. "Yeah? You work with them?"

"I go running with them all the time. They're sick fit." Vivian smiled. "Okay? You can totally trust me."

"I don't know. You don't go to the zoo." There was a pause and they all chuckled.

The first rule was to keep the victim calm. If poking fun helped, then that's what they'd do. "It's my Mom's fault. She cries at zoos," explained Vivian. "Those animal commercials? You know the ones with Sarah McLachlan music? Waterworks."

Mel sniffled. "Oh I can't watch that commercial. It's just, oh god."

"We have to change the channel or turn off the sound," sighed Vivian, dramatically.

"I can't watch it either," admitted Jenny.

They kept talking, trying to keep everyone calm, until the door opened. "Hello? It's Lt. Tran."

Thank god. "Hey, Loo." Vivian smiled. "See? Lt. Tran's a total badass."

Sue saw Vivian and nodded. "Peck... Good. You took the photos?"

"Yes, ma'am," nodded Vivian. She'd had a totally horrid crush on Sue as a young girl. Gail had found it amusing, but that was Gail for you. Now, Vivian just had a healthy respect for Sue and her work. "Looks like a standard issue backpack bomb. Remote detonator is my guess."

Nodding, Sue walked up to Mel. "Hella bad luck, huh? Okay, Peck, Aronson, you get out of here."

Mel stiffened. "What? Do they have to?"

The lieutenant looked between Mel and the rookies. "They're not trained in this." Sue gently rested a hand on Mel's shoulder. "But you're gonna go with them. Okay?" Flashing a hand sign, Sue indicated that she wanted someone to catch.

Vivian mostly understood the ETF hand signs. They needed someone to escort Mel out, which meant it was safe to let go. "Jenny, hold the door open, okay?" Vivian kept her voice low.

Her partner nodded. "We're clear, Lieutenant."

Her voice calm and steady, Sue explained. "Okay, Mrs. Herrick-"

"Mel," grimaced Mel. "Please."

"Okay, Mel. I'm Sue. You're gonna let me get a hold of the bag and then you're going to let go. Okay?" Mel nodded and Vivian carefully stepped closer. "Peck's going to take you outside as soon as that's over, and you're gonna be fine." Again, Mel nodded.

Vivian watched as Sue took a hold of the bag and nodded at her. Not Mel. Vivian. "Mel, let go slowly," coached Vivian, quietly. "Okay? Just relax your hands. There you go. And take a step back."

As Mel moved back, Vivian took hold of her upper arms. "Oh my god." Mel went wobbly and her knees started to give out.

Which was exactly why Sue wanted her to be there. "I got you," soothed Vivian, catching hold and supporting Mel. "Just lean on me. See we're walking backwards." She all but carried Mel out, past Jenny.

The other ETF agents were waiting. "All clear," said Jenny, her voice shaking.

"Get behind the zone," ordered Duane. It didn't matter than Vivian had beat him on their silly course the week before. This was a case and it was his domain. "Okay, Sabrina, all clear. Robby is a go."

As much as Vivian wanted to stay and see what they were going to do with Robby the robot, she and Jenny took Mel beyond the blast zone and to safety. They got her to the EMTs, who wrapped her in a blanket and took her vitals.

"Feel brave now, Peck?" McNally. And she wasn't happy.

"Feel like I was there for my partner, ma'am," she muttered. Glancing over, she saw Nick talking to Jenny. "Isn't that my job?"

McNally grimaced. "Running head long into danger?"

"It wasn't... Ma'am, it wasn't running into danger."

"Really? What was it? Because it looked like you went and hung out with a bomb."

Okay. It did look like that. "First rule is to keep the person calm." When McNally eyed her, confused, Vivian went on. "When you have someone on a possible explosive device, you keep 'em calm to prevent accidental discharge. I thought- I knew I could help Jenny stay calm, and that'd help Ms. Herrick."

The older officer sighed and pinched her nose. "You're going to be the death of me."

Vivian smiled sadly. "I'm not trying to, McNally."

"I know. You're trying to be a good copper." She shook her head. "Nick said you gave him details on the bomb. How'd you know that stuff?"

"School. I had to memorize all that crazy mechanical stuff. It's the same thing." Vivian shrugged.

Before McNally could reply, there was a muffled explosion. Everyone looked at the bathroom, where Sue and Sabrina were walking out of, laughing. "Damn crazy ..."

"All clear," said Sue, waving over. "McNally, bring Peck over here."

Shaking her head, McNally slapped a hand on Vivian's shoulder and steered her over. "I'll tell Dov and Gail you did the right thing, but Holly's going to read you the riot act."

Vivian winced. "I never thought I'd miss the days when Gail went mental over a soccer game." Once, and only once, had Gail lost it over a game. The defender had been half again the height of pre-teen Vivian (not that it had taken much at that age) and sent her flying with a head-on collision. Four stitches and a decade later, Gail was still coming up with ways to inflict revenge on the other girl.

"Shoulda thought of that before you put on the uniform." McNally was not comforting. "Hey, Sue."

"Hey, Andy. Hey, rookie."

Vivian smiled, feeling more shy than normal. Okay, fine, she still had a mix of an awkward childish crush and a healthy dose of hero worship for Sue. "Hi, Lieutenant." Behind the ETF boss were Viv's friends, Duane and Sabrina. They were smiling.

Holding up her phone, Sue showed a better picture of the bomb. "What do you see, Peck?"

There was an obvious answer. It was a bomb. She narrowed her eyes at the picture. They played all sorts of weird games at home, like memorizing license plates and spotting things that didn't match. Gail usually won, Steve and Elaine vied for second place, and Vivian pulled up tail end Charlie, except in one case. Photos that were side by side, and you had to spot the difference, she sucked at. Diagrams and maps and designs, she kicked everyone's ass.

It was probably because of those engineering classes.

Her brain pulled up the examples of the pipe bombs they'd been shown in class. The wiring was pretty standard. Movies aside, a bomber didn't fuck around with wiring. No sane person experimented or screwed with the plan. They did it the same way, every time, and they made sure it was the same.

"The phone's a fake," she blinked and looked up at Sue. "I couldn't see from the front, but right there..." She tapped the phone. "That's not a real wire."

Andy leaned over her shoulder, making a surprised noise. "How can you tell?"

"The lead's wrong. If you actually had that wire cross over, the risk of a spark triples and ... Um ... Well you could blow up early."

Sue was grinning ear to ear. "Your teacher wasn't in much danger. The fuse literally needed to be lit. We blew it up in the blast box. Give the lab some fun to find prints and shit."

Both Vivian and Andy made faces. Vivian guessed, "Maybe the bomber was going back?"

"Maybe the teacher is the bomber," offered Andy. They both glanced over at the scared woman. "Right. Go talk to her. She likes you."

As McNally clapped her shoulder, Vivian scowled. "You don't really think..."

"Hey, little rookie? Go do what I said. Talk to her. Ask her about how she found it."

Vivian nodded and turned to go. As she crossed the tape, Sue called out. "Hey, Little Peck? Good job."

At least she had that going for her.


Most of the time Holly felt that she was reasonable about her wife's job. Back in the beginning, when they'd been dating and she's heard Gail was shot at, she'd crumbled and broken. When Gail had nearly been blown up, she'd fractured. And of course, when Gail went undercover, she'd fallen apart and needed her wife to keep her together.

But being reasonable about their daughter in similar situations was a lot harder. Holly had thought that since she could handle Gail in peril, as long as she found out about it after the fact, the same would be true of Vivian. It so, so, wasn't.

"You went in with the bomb!?"

"Mom, it wasn't like that," Vivian repeated. "It was ... I couldn't leave Jenny in there alone. The probability of an incident goes up if you can't keep the victim calm."

"Oh and why couldn't Jenny?"

"She was my partner, Mom! It's my job to go out there!"

There was something in Vivian's tone that reminded her of Gail. Holly heard the same semi-incredulity in her daughter's voice. "I can't... Viv, I can't be reasonable about this right now," managed Holly, fighting down the anger and fear.

"No shit." Her daughter was pissed. "You know, if it was Mom, you'd be mad, but you wouldn't lose your shit."

Untrue. Totally, undeniably, untrue. The words 'go to your room' hovered on Holly's lips and yet she managed to press them together, tightly, and not say it. Vivian was 23. She was an adult. She may still be living at home with her parents, but she was not a child. As much as it hurt Holly, Vivian was a mature, responsible, fucking irritating, grown up. "I," Holly said slowly. "I am going to the office." Somehow she managed not to snap. "Do you need anything?"

Vivian looked startled. "Mom..." Maybe she could tell she'd pushed a little too far.

"No. Viv. No, I love you, but I'm walking away before I say something I don't mean." She waved a finger towards Vivian and turned, taking herself upstairs.

There was nothing said from below. Vivian was, apparently, silent and still. She loved her daughter. And it wasn't that Holly didn't know she was being a little unreasonable. These feelings she had, the tightness in her chest when Vivian had casually mentioned that she'd been on site for the bomb scare at the zoo, the rush of delayed terror as she realized her child had held a woman's hand and guided her away, that Vivian had been right there, they weren't new.

She'd felt all this before, over and over, with Gail. Gail who had been shot at, stopped a radio with her face, sat on a bomb, talked down a knife wielding kidnapper who didn't speak English, and a hundred other things... It had been twenty years. She knew Gail's job was important to her. She knew this was the life her wife would probably always have.

And now, here, Holly felt like she understood why Elaine had been so against Vivian joining the family business. The Peck family business. It wasn't just the fact that she would have to bear the weight of the name Peck, it was that Holly had to deal with her daughter in danger.

Holly sat on the couch in the office and covered her face. She'd been the one who defended Vivian's choice. When the Pecks, en masse, had protested and said Vivian could be anything she wanted, Holly had pointed out that being a cop was what she wanted.

The door creaked open. Holly looked up as a blonde head popped in. "Hey. Can I come in or are you still processing?"

"I may say stupid things," sighed Holly.

"Well, that is one of the best bennies about being married, sweetheart. I know what you mean, even when you're talking stupid." Gail came in and closed the door. "She's sorry, by the way."

"What for?"

"The bit about how if it was me, you wouldn't be so upset."

Holly watched Gail put away her backup gun and badge. The service piece was probably in the small safe in the bedroom. "She's almost right," she noted. "I'm sort of used to you in harms way."

Her wife glanced over her shoulder. "No you're not. You tolerate it. It scares the shit out of you." With a little more feeling than normal, Gail closed the gun safe and sat beside Holly. "Sue called me about it."

They settled into each other comfortably, Holly resting her head on Gail's shoulder, Gail's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? What did Sue say?"

"Our kid is smart and calm under pressure. She also has memorized bombs better than most rooks." Gail seemingly absently brushed Holly's hair away from her ear. But the way her fingers lingered, it was clear Gail was trying to be soothing. "ETF really likes her."

There was an undertone to Gail's words. Holly hadn't worked with cops and lived with a Peck this long to not know what she meant. "Oh crap." Vivian in ETF?

"Better than sex crimes I guess," sighed Gail, her cheek resting on Holly's temple. "Why couldn't she do Mounted Patrol? She likes horses."

Holly pressed her face into the hollow of Gail's shoulder. "It's not a done deal. She wants to be like Oliver."

Her wife snorted. "That was six years ago, sweetheart." Gail's voice was soft and a little tired. "I don't like it either," she whispered.

"It's her job to go back out there and put herself in danger."

There was a brief pause and Gail laughed softly. "Yeah. Yeah it is." She kissed Holly's forehead. "Wanna eat up here and avoid the kid?"

In a way she did. In another she didn't. Holly nestled against Gail, drinking in her comfort and steadiness. "What are you making for dinner."

"Seeing as I was up early, I was planning on poisson meunière."

Holly knew that one. Fish with lemon and brown butter. "Sides?"

"Boiled new potatoes, light salad."

While Holly loved the fish, Vivian loved potatoes. "Peacemaker." Holly sat up and kissed Gail softly. It was too inviting and she took a light hold of Gail's cheeks, keeping her in place to kiss again. She felt Gail's smile against her own lips and couldn't help but smile back.

"I try," admitted Gail, kissing her one more time.

Holly went downstairs first, knowing Gail was probably going to change out of her work clothes first. Seated in the comfy chair was Vivian, watching the news. "Anything new out there?"

"Gas prices are going up. Pipeline from up north is on strike."

"Cheerful." Holly leaned on the back of the chair. "Hey, I'm sorry."

Vivian craned her neck. "You're sorry? Mom..."

"You're allowed to be sorry too, it's not mutually exclusive."

Her brown haired child smiled a little abashedly. "I'm sorry I scared you. I don't know... I don't know how not to. How does Mom?"

With a sigh, Holly ruffled Vivian's hair. "She doesn't."

"Seriously? When ... You don't- I've never seen you freak out about Mom."

She was probably thinking about times like when Gail had gone undercover. "Honey, you're my kid." Holly let her hand still on Vivian's head and then rested her cheek on the back of her hand. "We're supposed to take care of you. Protect you."

Vivian sighed. "I'm not a little kid anymore, Mom. I'm ... I want to carry the load with you guys."

They'd raised a thoughtful, caring child. "When you were younger, we tried to not let you see us panic." Holly's confession hung in the air. "You know how scared Gail was when I was sick. I was just as terrified when she went missing undercover."

"Yeah?" Vivian didn't move.

"Yeah. It's really hard to let you go sometimes," she told Vivian quietly.

There was a click of a camera and they both looked over to see Gail holding her phone. "Sorry, you guys look cute." Vivian flipped off her mother, to Holly's amusement. "Watch the news, my nerds. I've got dinner."

"I'm getting drinks," announced Holly. "Can we have beer?"

Gail looked appalled. "With this fish?"

"What? It's the bread dredged fish, so ... Fish and chips?"

Her wife was horrified. "Get the hell out of my kitchen! You ... You're a caveman, Holly! This is a delicate fish! It's flaky, it's tender, and it goes with a fucking white wine!" Gail threw her hands up and stomped into the kitchen. "A dry, floral, wine. Next thing, Viv'll ask for a damn Pepsi!"

Vivian giggled. "Orange juice?" Gail hissed at them both and ignored them, making a rattle in the kitchen. "We made Mom mad," she whispered.

"Mom's pretty stuck up about food," Holly whispered back. "She's kind of a princess."

The girl laughed. "Sometimes they call her the Ice Queen at work," she noted. Then she startled and reached into her pocket, pulling out her buzzing phone. "It's Mel."

Holly's eyebrows went up. "Who's Mel?"

"Mel Herrick. She's the teacher who had the bomb..." Vivian hesitated and then tapped her phone. "Peck," she said carefully, clearly trying to be firm like Gail was when she said that, but missing the mark. "Yes, no, no, hi, Mel. I gave you my card, it's fine."

Smiling at her daughter, Holly was surprised when Vivian glanced at her. Then Vivian turned away, a curious color creeping up her neck. Oh Ho Ho. Holly got up and went into the kitchen. "Hey, honey, what's the department policy on dating people you meet at work? Like suspects and victims?"

Gail blinked. "Well. Oliver met Celery because she was robbed. Dov dated a drug dealers ex, though, and nearly blew up one of Boyd's big cases." She frowned. "Why?"

"I think Vivian is being asked out by the woman she helped today."

They both turned to look at their daughter. With her short hair, nearly Gail's level of shortness, the back of Vivian's neck was visible. It was slightly red. "Oh," smirked Gail. "Get out the Sauvignon Blanc, please."

Already? "That was fast," mused Holly, but Gail already had the potatoes drained.

"I started the boil before I came upstairs."

"You're very smart." Holly kissed her and went to the fridge for the bottle they'd started already. As she poured three glasses, Vivian came over looking confused and collected the plates. "Our mini-human looks confounded," she told Gail.

The blonde smirked. "She does. Monkey, why are you so confused?"

"Uh. Well she- the teacher from the, uh, the thing-"

"The bomb scare," suggested Holly.

"Right. Her. She asked me out."

Gail looked amused. "Was she cleared?"

"Yeah." Vivian looked between her mothers. "You're both smiling at me. That's creepy. Stop."

Flipping the fish, Gail gestured to Vivian. "Plates, please. When did she want to go out? Tonight?"

Vivian shook her head. "Tomorrow." She eyed Gail a little more. "It's okay?"

"Given that I met your mom at a crime scene, I'm not one to talk." Gail sniffed the brown butter and smiled. "As long as she's not a suspect, it's fine, though you should wait for the case to be closed."

With a sigh, Vivian leaned on the counter. "It's a bomb case. Unless the lab finds a print or a match to the innards, we got nothing." There was a pause and both her cops turned to look at Holly.

"Not my specialty," she pointed out. "But I promise it's being worked on."

Vivian folded her arms on the counter and rested her head on them. "What's the use of being the daughter of the country's greatest forensic pathologist if she can't rush labs for you."

Laughing brightly, Gail plated the fish. "Can't rush polymer chain reactions, kiddo. Three wine glasses please, unless you're running off for a date."

Their daughter blushed as she fetched the glasses. Gail handed Holly a plate and carried the other two over. "Look at her, all grown up," teased Holly. The young woman was still a little shy and awkward. Watching her navigate the dating world felt like Holly was watching herself at the same ages. Nothing but bad luck and tripping over her own feet.

The plates clinked on the table and Gail sighed. Holly knew that sigh. Once in a great while Gail would muse how different Viv would be if she'd been their biological daughter. Would the mirroring of themselves be more or less obvious. How much of them would be in her. "You know, she has 1504 this week."

Holly snorted. "You know very well there no such thing as curses, Gail Peck."

"Really? I was in 1504 when we broke up," she teased, and Holly slapped her butt. "And Sam got it shot up. And Andy lost a tire."

"No such thing as a curse, Peck!" But Holly was laughing.

She was still a little upset at her daughter being in danger, and she was likely always going not be scared about it. But she trusted two things above all. Holly trusted Gail to have taught Vivian well, to make sure their child knew the reality about her job. And Holly trusted Vivian to be smart, because their girl was, above all else, a smart cookie.

If only Vivian was as smart about her heart.


The restaurant was nice, though not super fancy. That was good, since Vivian was in her motorcycle jacket. Holly had insisted she wear it, with elbow-pads and everything, any time she went riding. The problem with the restaurant being nice and not fancy was that there was no coat check, so she had to bring the helmet with her to the table.

"Hi, sorry I'm late. I had to finish a report," Vivian smiled, trying to affect the same casualness she saw in Gail when sauntering around.

"About motorcycles?" Mel gestured at the helmet.

Vivian laughed, awkwardly. "No, no, I, um... It's mine." The teacher's eyebrows rose. "Yes, I know. Stereotypes. The lesbian has a motorcycle."

Smiling brightly, Mel gestured at the chair. "Well I guess that answers if you thought this was a friend date or not."

"I have no idea," admitted Vivian. "But my mom pointed out I'm pretty dense about this."

"Your mom know you're on a date?"

"I live with my parents," she explained. If there was going to be fallout from that, let it be early on.

But all Mel asked was, "They're okay with you being a cop?"

"It's a family job. Pecks have been cops in Toronto for as long as Toronto's had cops." She shrugged and smiled up at the waiter. "I haven't even looked, sorry. May I have an iced tea?"

Mel blushed. "I should have looked too... My friend said this was a great tapas place. Do you like tapas? I really love it. I want to go to Spain one day and have real tapas."

Oh yeah. This was a date. "Drink?"

The blush on Mel's face got worse. "Uh. Coke. Coke Zero." Reminding Mel to have a drink bought her some time to figure out what to talk about. The idea was one supposed to talk with dates about things, not just let them talk. That was something Liv had complained about.

The waiter smiled at both of them. "I'll just give you a minute." He winked and vanished as quickly as he'd arrived.

Vivian glanced at the menu to buy herself more time and saw chorizo, among other things. That little bit of Gail in her heart cropped up. "Did I mention I was a vegetarian?" Vivian smiled just a little, laying a hint that she was kidding.

There was a moment of panic from Mel and then she broke out laughing. "Oh my god, you had me going for a second."

"I really like chorizo," grinned Vivian. "But I adore potatoes. And there are tons of vegetarian options here."

They chatted about food a little (success!) and made their orders. The waiter put down bread and olive oil along with their drinks. "Can I tell you a secret? I hate ordering first."

Vivian blinked. "What? Like food?" When Mel nodded, Vivian asked the obvious. "Why's that?"

"I'm always afraid I'll pick the wrong thing. Like if you ordered beer, then I would. But you did a tea and so I can't pick beer because it'll be weird."

"That was incredibly ... You overthink a lot. Do people tell you that?"

Mel sighed. "Constantly."

It was kind of cute. "I have to be at work, in uniform, pretty early. They want us on site for the opening of Oktoberfest all week. So, while I would love a beer or some vino, I'm waiting till end of shift this week."

"How does that work? I mean, you can't work Monday through Friday, can you?"

"No, we have a rotating shift. It's ... What subject do you teach? It's kinda like a word problem."

Mel grinned. "Social Studies. But I think I can follow."

"Hah. Okay, so if you're a detective, you can work just weekdays and be on call for weekends." The whole time Vivian had lived with Gail, she'd been a detective, so she'd had 'normal' hours. "Rookie uniforms, like me, work 8-12 hour shifts. We have five days on, three off. Then it's four on, two off. Three on, four off. It cycles around five weeks so sometimes we have weekends and sometimes we don't." It got messier with holidays and adjustments for night work. Vivian was sure a supercomputer was used to keep it all straight.

Looking a little enlightened, Mel asked, "When are your off days?"

That was bold. "Sunday and Monday. But if I have court, then they're not really off days."

"Will you? Have court I mean."

"Depends on if we catch... Um. Well you know. The backpack thing." That was not something to really talk about at dinner.

Mel's eyes widened. "Do you have a ..." She stopped and looked around before leaning forward. "A suspect?"

It was endearingly naive. "I can't talk about that," she pointed out, smiling. Smile. Keep smiling. People wanted a girl to smile on a date. "Social Studies, huh? How'd you get stuck at the zoo with a horde of kids alone?"

Rolling her eyes, Mel explained about how stupid Aaron was supposed to go with her and he got sick. She was sure he was just hung over, but then her backup also begged off. The name Aaron rang a bell. While one of Gail's detectives was working on the case (seriously, the name 'major' crimes had to be a joke), Vivian had glanced at the suspect list. Aaron Murphy was the name of a suspect. It was reflex, but Vivian asked what Aaron's last name was.

Murphy.

Pushing the thought away (because Gail's guys would totally have looked into it), Vivian tried to ask about other things. Like about kids. Did Mel like working with kids? But then she remembered the backpack. The backpack had been a match for one of the kids' packs. Who had the kid been? Vivian found herself asking questions that were all a little leading back to the case.

And Mel sure noticed. Because in turn she asked how long Vivian had been a cop, and if she liked it. And, at the end of the dinner, Mel gave her a kiss off. First, literally, she kissed Vivian lightly. Then she sighed.

"I've never gone out with a cop. Are they all so ... Are they all cop all the time?"

Vivian winced. "I'm afraid that's just me."

Mel nodded sagely. "You don't talk a lot about yourself," she pointed out. "And you ask questions like... A cop. You're nice, but I think you should figure out who you are besides a cop."

Yeah, that was not the end of a good date. Vivian knew better than to argue it. She couldn't. The cop brain, the one she'd spent years crafting for herself, just didn't turn off.

Shoving a hand into her pocket, Vivian nodded. "I had a nice time," she offered, feeling as if the words were rote.

It showed as Mel shook her head. "Thank you. For saving my life."

She watched Mel get into her car and drive off, resisting the urge to bash her forehead into her helmet. The number of dates that had ended with 'you don't talk a lot about yourself' was rather high. Talk about school, talk about work, talk about sports, talk about anything but herself.

Talking about herself opened her up for the inevitable questions about her parents. That lead to being asked about being adopted. On the heels of that came the ones about her birth family. So far, Lara was the only person who hadn't pressed Vivian about it right after figuring out she was adopted. And Lara was straight. And Vivian was pretty sure she didn't want to date a cop. Ever.

She rode home, thinking about how the date had gone so crappily and how to prevent that from happening again. The obvious answer was to talk about herself. What she was thinking and feeling. Those things never came naturally to her. What she needed was someone who was okay with pulling teeth to get her to talk. Or someone who was okay with getting stories in dribs and drabs.

At least it was something to talk about with her therapist, besides the stupid flashbacks she'd been having. That reminded her to file a mental note not to tell her Moms about those. Holly would fuss and worry, and Gail ... Actually Vivian wasn't sure what Gail would do. She was harder to guess about than Holly was, especially with regards to things.

The flashbacks weren't as traumatic as Gail's seemed to be, for one. They were more like memories. She was finally remembering things about the day her parents and sister died. She remembered a social worker who wanted to hold her hand. She remembered sitting in an ambulance, hugging her bag. She remembered being asked if she'd been hurt.

Now she understood what the meaning was behind that question. Had she been abused, mentally, physically, or sexually. Vivian still didn't remember being hit or touched. Quite the opposite. She didn't remember the things she had now. Thinking back on eighteen years with Gail and Holly, Vivian remembered hugs and being tucked in. She remembered Gail supporting her while she threw up, Holly hugging her while she cried, and both being affectionate and making sure she knew she was loved.

That was the galling part of her memory.

She didn't have a single memory of her birth family doing any of that.

It used to be that Vivian thought she just didn't remember because she'd been six. Now she knew better and it hurt in a different way. Now it hurt to know what she could have had and could have felt. It wasn't what she'd had and lost, it was what she'd found and what it meant for what she'd never had before. What did Gail say at their 10th anniversary? It was realizing what had been missing all the time with everyone else, and finding everything she'd never known she'd needed.

Vivian paused her bike at the garage door.

In that house were two women who wanted her to be happy. They loved her and wanted the best for her. As soon as she went inside, they'd know how her date went. And they'd still love her and support her. She sighed and pressed her fob to open the garage door.

When she opened the living room door, her mothers were mid argument. "It's not that old!" Holly was very insistent.

"It is too! We got it the year you broke your wrist." Gail's response was equally firm and serious. "So it's six years old, and that's not 'too soon' at all."

"There's no way it's... Oh."

Gail mimicked Holly's tone. "Oh."

"Oh shut up," laughed Holly. "Fine. It's not too soon, it was old, and that was a shitty time to break."

"I made do," Gail drawled. "You didn't complain."

"No," admitted Holly, a little giggly. Her voice was lighter than normal.

And just like that, Vivian knew what her parents had been up to and what broke. "Oh my god, you guys are talking about breaking your vibrator," groaned Vivian, loudly.

Her mothers fell silent and then Gail cleared her throat. "You're home early. No desert?"

Vivian put her helmet on the shelf and hung up her coat. "No, and no second date either." She glanced over and saw Holly clutching the neckline of her robe and blushing.

"I'm... I'm going to change," said Holly, a little stiffly, and she went upstairs. Holly could be a little prudish when it came to nudity around her daughter.

Gail's smirk was unmistakable, and she could care less. "Sorry," she stifled the grin and put her iPad down. "Ice cream or alcohol or sulking in your room?" There was a way Gail could say things that made it seem like either option was not just viable, but acceptable.

Sitting at the kitchen island, Vivian draped her arms over it and put her head down on the cool stone. "I think you should order two of whatever you're ordering," she mumbled. The soft 'oh dear' from Gail did not go amiss. A moment later there was the sound of the fridge and the clatter of bowls.

"Ice cream," Gail said decisively.

Sulking, Vivian didn't pick her head up. Not even when Holly came back down and gently patted the back of her head. "That bad?" Holly's voice was back to normal.

"She doesn't want to talk about it."

It was Holly who pushed this time. "Spill, Little Peck," she told her daughter. "Or no ice cream."

Vivian lifted her head just enough to eye her mother. "Why were you downstairs naked anyway?" As expected, Holly flushed. Gail, on the other hand, coughed disapprovingly. Don't change the subject. Right. "So you know how people always say I never talk? I … tried."

Both of Gail's eyebrows went up. "Tried?"

"I talked about work. Which, in my defense, she asked about first." Vivian sighed and propped her elbows on the counter, resting her chin on her fists. "And that kinda turned into me poking about the case in a weird way and … she said I need to figure out who I am."

While Holly looked thoughtful, Gail winced and pushed the bowl over. Cookie dough. Classic. "Gail?" Holly tilted her head at the blonde, using that weird mom telepathy they'd developed.

"She means Viv talked about everything but herself, and it made her think she's hiding something, and when the hell did I become the smart one about relationships, Holly?"

"You figured out how we fucked everything up and how to put it back together faster than I did," Holly noted, snatching Gail's spoon and taking a bite of ice cream. "Viv, honey…" And Holly stalled, as if not sure where to go.

Vivian scowled. "Its not that I don't want to talk about it, Mom. I mean, god I do not want to talk about it. But I can't."

The confusion on Holly's face didn't go away, but Gail made a noise of understanding. "It's hard to get the words out when you don't know..." Gail paused and looked at Holly softly. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to talk to you about Perik, Holly?"

"Oh," said Holly softly.

"It makes you feel ... raw. Like your heart is open and covered in gasoline, and you're not sure if the other person has a match or not."

That was exactly it. Vivian looked at Gail, feeling a little wide eyed. "How does she do that?" How did Gail just drop bombs like that which explained everything?

Holly leaned against Gail. "I don't know. It's a latent Peck thing," she mused. "She couldn't do it when I met her."

That gave Gail a sad look. "I didn't want to lose you again."

"Awesome," grumbled Vivian and she took a bite of her ice cream. "I'll just wait till I find a plus one and have a mental breakthrough."

"Hey." Gail was frowning. "You're not me. I'm not my parents. You will figure out how to deal with it however it works for you, okay?"

There was the problem. Vivian whispered, "What if it doesn't work?" What if this, this person who couldn't talk about her feelings, was who she was? What if she never had a plus one?

"Then it doesn't," said Gail. "But it will."

"How do you know?"

Gail smiled. "Look, you wanted to be a cop, right? How'd you know that?"

"Because..." She looks between Holly and Gail. "I don't want people to think there's no one to help them, no one who will help them. I wanted to be like Oliver, but I think ... I think Christian's that. Now? I guess because I know I can do things and I want to do them to help people. Do what they can't."

Her mother's were smiling a little. An approval smile. "And why don't you want to talk about your past?"

Vivian opened her mouth. Then she closed it. "I don't know." She didn't. "I mean… Mom, when I say I can't talk about it, I mean it literally. I can't. I tried! I tried to tell Liv a couple times and the words just … they stop. I start having a stupid panic attack." She stabbed at the ice cream, watching it start to melt. "I don't want to freak out in front of people."

After a moment, Gail suggested, "You should try to talk about your hobbies. Like that American Ninja Idiots thing you like? Talk about that."

Skeptical, Vivian poked her ice cream and started to eat it. Holly fed Gail a spoonful and noted, "That's actually not a bad idea. Tell them you're into sports. Talk about books and movies. But god, do not bring up work. That never ends well."

"It did for you two," grumbled Vivian.

"We," sighed Gail, "We are not normal."

Weirdly, knowing that made it a little easier.


Bomb cases were rarely on Gail's docket, not even if they happened at a zoo. While it was terrible, it wasn't majorly major enough. And that was fine by her. Bombs were messy, they were ugly, and they reminded her of her car. She still had the destroyed license plate. The shrapnel was pretty cool.

Still. This case ended up in her world for one simple reason. "What do you mean that he's back?"

On her couch was Sue Tran. John was leaning against the door, looking surly. "I mean based on the information the lab techs gave me, it's the same signature and the same design. And? Just like last time, it was fake. Nothing hooked up."

"I really didn't need this," grumbled Gail.

Sue looked bitter. "We don't even have a goddamned name, Gail. Just that stupid nickname."

They never had. Five years ago, Sgt. Tran had led her squad to a reported bomb left in a backpack by Centennial College. They'd found a fake bomb, not a dud, but just not wired up. Then they found another and another, until there was finally a live one back at the College. Except Sue's team was so wired and stressed out that they'd fumbled.

One of her best men paid that price.

Their lieutenant paid that price.

That was Sue's pain to bear.

"I'm sorry," sighed Gail.

Throwing her arms over the back of the couch, Sue asked, "How's the drug case going?"

Gail tossed her pen onto the table. "Oh. Shitty. Noelle thinks it's about to be a full on gang war if we don't watch out. And I still have no idea how it all comes together. But I got Three Rivers trying to take over Anton Hill's people, and no one knows who's in charge of Rivers."

Thankfully Sue winced. "Well that sounds fucking awesome."

"It's as much fun as you think."

John finally spoke up. "How about I keep an eye on it? The bombs. I'm better than anyone else we've got for it."

"Might be dead ends," noted Sue.

"I'm good at those too," he smiled. "Fact finding, data diving. It's this thing Gail's not really familiar with. Patience."

Gail flipped him off. "Plus side, he doesn't need my permission to requisition more staff."

Smiling, Sue gave a thumbs up. "Who's running your gang war?"

"Steve. No one knows gangs better." Gail pushed her chair back and propped her feet up on the table. "I just want that damn bird."

"Bird?" Sue looked at John. "She lose her mind?"

"Nah, we've got this idea that the Three Rivers guys track back to this poem from a comic book."

Gail winced as Sue gave her a droll look. "Don't say it."

"That's really dumb, Peck. What the hell?"

"Ass," she muttered to John. But then she laid out her theory. The names of the shops coincided with the poem, which was about three brothers who had to be united to find treasure. "And I totally get that it could all be a big fat coincidence, but damned if things don't line up."

Sue read the poem thoughtfully. "Except for the brothers things. You've got one leader, right? Bobby Zanaro Jr?"

"Yeah and nothing on him. Chloe's guys have been trailing him for ages. He's good."

Frowning, the ETF lieutenant tapped the paper in her hands. "Funny thing... Eagles. Where did you say these guys were based out of?"

"Thank you for pointing out the other thing I don't know," griped Gail. "They're working out by the Don River. Upper."

Sue looked thoughtful. "You know there's a little league team up there? I used to play against 'em."

It was John who joked, "Not ponytail league?"

Shaking her head, Sue went on. "We used to play this team there called the Eagles. Sponsored by ... Something named Crosse. With an E."

Gail felt her face go flat. "Sue, you're not just trying to make me feel better because I'm sitting on a bomb, right?"

The woman shook her head. "No. I'm dead serious. This ... This really stupid theory you have kinda holds water."

Sitting up, Gail tapped her computer into life and added the information from Sue. "See? That's what keeps happening. It can't possibly be. But I have three pot shops in three different neighborhoods with the right names. And I have three brothers! They're all dead, but I do."

Unbidden, a laugh burst from Sue. "Sorry."

"I like you better when you were too nervous to speak in court," snarled Gail.

"They're dead?" Sue was an inch from serious laughter.

"Come on," Gail groaned. "They've been dead for years. Bobby Zanaro's dad had two brothers. We're hunting down their kids but looks like most got whacked back when I was a uni."

Sue stopped laughing. "Oh. When they had that takeover? Isn't that..." She waved a hand around the room.

Yes. That was how Gail got the job upstairs. "Yep," she replied, popping the P.

Shaking her head, Sue handed the paper back. "Man, what goes around, comes around. Who'd've thought we'd all still be here."

"You are a pretty incestuous lot," muttered John.

"You can get out." Gail snarled at her sergeant warning.

John was so used to her now that he just smiled. "Nice to see you again, Sue. I'll get on the research for you."

Once John left, Sue grinned. "How'd a brat like you get a sergeant like him?"

"I blackmailed him," Gail replied flippantly. She typed more about the idea of a baseball sponsor into her report and realized Sue was still sitting on her couch. "What?"

"Your kid."

Gail blinked and closed her laptop lid. "Viv? I thought she did okay at the scene..."

The other woman shook her head. "Honest? She did great." Before Gail could make a flippant remark about Vivian being a Peck, Sue went on. "Your kid was actually pretty impressive. Did you read her report?"

"No. I try not to be my mother on her."

"She's smart, Gail. She gets it."

Gail frowned. "I hope so. She worked hard." She knew where was Sue going with this, and she didn't like it.

"My guys like her."

There it was. If Vivian had been a friend and not a daughter, Gail would tell Sue about the crush. But... "I'm not going to stop her, Sue. If she asks for the rotation, that's on her." The parent in her heart screamed. Let her kid, her only kid, go running into danger? Play with bombs that blew people up and storm buildings and take down shooters? Gail had seen how bad it got!

Sue, childless Sue, looked seriously at Gail. "There's not stopping and there's not helping," she said carefully. "I think she may have a knack for it."

Swallowing, Gail nodded. "Well. She's still a rook, Sue."

"I know, I know. But I gotta tell you. I see it there. She's not a weird junkie like Dov. She's got the look." Sue laced her fingers together. "She's not good with people, but she's good in a crisis."

Of all the scars that Vivian bore, the ones that made her reliable in a crisis were the only good ones. She was always the person her friends could turn to, when being beaten by bullies or high and scared. Vivian didn't freak out. She handled the situation. Even Nick said that Vivian was in control, if a bit of an automaton, when the guy blew his head off in front of her.

Maybe this was her niche after all. Maybe she wasn't going to be Oliver, like teen Vivian had dreamed. Maybe, maybe she was going to be like Sue.

"Tell you what, though," smiled Gail. "There are worse people to be like than you."

"Keep saying things like that, Peck, and I'll think you like me," retorted Sue, grinning.

"Don't get your hopes up. You broke my ribs. It'll be a long time before I forgive you for that."

But they laughed. Because people couldn't survive and exploding car and not be some kind of friends afterwards, now, could they?


The end of chapter six. The mad bomber, what could he be up to? The gangs! Will there be a war?

Vivian by the way was totally wrong about the connections. The guy ditched Zoo Day to have a date and nothing more. He was suspect becuase of the timing and nothing more.