Season Two

No, it's not one year later. It's been almost four months since the Three Rivers and the Hill gangs collapsed, however. Things are going as well as you might expect for everyone. Vivian's 24th birthday has come and gone, celebrated quietly with family. But it's April now. And soon it will be Holly and Gail's 20th anniversary. Let's kick into season two!

02.01 - Butterflies

A routine welfare check turns into more when a body is found at the Allan Garden's Palm House.


Springtime was Holly's favorite season. It was the glorious time in the end of April, between Vivian's birthday and Holly's, a scant 6 weeks before her wedding anniversary, where there was absolutely nothing familial hanging over them. Spring meant she'd take half days twice a week and garden. Lily had emailed a layout for the year, with a list of what to grow and why, and Holly actually enjoyed the work of gardening.

The sun was shining, the breeze was a little chilly, and yet Holly was humming as happy as she'd been in months. Happier. The seasons changed and she knew her mood did too. More sun outside meant her body felt lighter. She slept better. She was less touchy. She smiled more. Holly sighed and looked up at the sky and her house, smiling.

She loved her house. While Holly had adored the townhouse she'd bought, and while she and Gail had made it their home, the roominess of the house they had now was so welcoming. It was the right size for them, and likely still would be after Vivian moved out. If she moved out. And if not, well, that would still be okay.

Lately Vivian had been making mentions that she was thinking about moving out. They were the same sorts of subtle remarks Viv made back when she wanted to change her name. Holly stretched and thought about that. Their kid wasn't direct like Gail, she was more of a sneaky thinker who dropped random hints before a big one.

Hadn't that been how it went with the name? It started after Matty had gotten beat up. Vivian had made a passing comment about how it was good to have Peck backup, and she was glad Gail let her help. "Sneaky girl," muttered Holly and she knelt back by her project.

The flowers were going to make the yard beautiful. They were bright colors. Gail always wanted to plant food but they didn't have the time to do that. Maybe when she retired she could grow vegetables. Up at the cottage. Gail would never want to retire up there, though. She liked it as an escape from the city. The one place the Pecks never ruined for her.

Holly smiled. She liked the cottage too. Gail hadn't explained how big it was, practically a house, when she had first told Holly about it. A small cottage by the lake. Right. It was almost the size of their house, on the lake, with a dock and boat shed and miles of quiet land to roam when they wanted. And the Pecks had owned the land for generations.

Sitting on her haunches, Holly studied the layout of the flowers and frowned. Something was wrong.

"The red ones go on the left."

Startling, Holly fell to the side, catching herself with one arm. "Jesus fuck, Gail, don't do that!" Holly's heart was thudding like mad and she had no idea how she'd not jumped out of her skin. Scowling, she looked over her shoulder and saw her impish wife sucking on a smoothie.

"Sorry." Gail held out a smoothie. "Green machine?"

Damn it, Gail knew her well. "Help me up, you asshole."

Gail put the drinks down on the deck and she gently tugged Holly to her feet. "Hey, sweetheart." The smile on Gail's face was irresistible and Holly sighed and kissed her. "They do go on the left, though. Your mom sent me the layout and the list. I've got the fertilizer."

She looped her arms around Gail's neck. "Thank you. You're still an asshole."

"True." Gail smiled and rested her hands on Holly's waist. She inhaled and smiled more. "It's going to be very colorful this year."

"Well. Mom's coming out next month."

Gail made a face. "Happy anniversary. Can't we run away and hide?"

Their mothers had planned the party. Gail wasn't really keen on it. "Twenty years. Not a chance. We have a party. We have a nice hotel room. Work on kid number two."

Smothering a laugh, Gail kissed her. "There's this hot doctor who told me that isn't how it works."

"Doesn't mean we can't try." Holly let her voice linger teasingly. "Want to help me plant flowers?"

"Only if that's a euphemism." Leering, Gail kissed her once more and let go. "I'm going to finish up a report and then cook dinner. I sent our minion out to get ingredients. Grilled apricots, burrata, the rest of the ham from last weekend, sliced real thin. Something light. If the arugula looks good, that can go with it. Oh and bread."

Holly watched Gail saunter back inside and smiled after her. Impish, puckish, silly. Gail Peck could be annoying and frustrating. But she always made sure Holly knew she was adored. "Love you too, honey," called out Holly, picking up her smoothie.

"I know! Your bag of shit is in the garage."

Shaking her head, Holly sipped the smoothie before moving the red flowers to the other side. Gail was right, that looked better. The fertilizer came last, pouring it on the way Lily had taught her years ago, and Holly finished as the sun was dipping downward and her daughter came outside to start the grill.

"Looking nice, Mom. I like this year's layout."

"Thanks, kiddo. How was your shift?"

Vivian shrugged. "C swapped with Lara again. I can't believe Andy is just letting that go. I mean, Jesus, it's been months."

Holly sat on the wood chair and exhaled, feeling every second of her age. "Honey, you broke his nose."

"Yeah, well." Vivian grumbled under her breath. She'd eventually told Gail what had happened. The blonde had sighed and said that he was lucky all Viv broke was his nose, but she'd been inclined to let Vivian work through it on her own. Which meant it had been three and a half months since Vivian had spoken more than a few words with her former closest friend in Toronto.

As a 'replacement' friend, Lara had been filling the void. If Viv wasn't off doing something ninja like with her ETF friends, she was hanging out with Lara and, by extension, Jenny. The girls had become friends, and that was nice, Holly thought. Jenny had actually come over to the house, on her own, to apologize about taking Christian's side in the Penny. No explanation, just an apology.

They didn't like coming over to the house, Vivian's new friends. Apparently Gail was intimidating and so was Holly. That was funny, to Holly at least, but it meant Vivian was out a lot more. And in many ways, that was also good. She was finally coming out of her shell.

"Yeah, well," replied Holly, smiling. "Where is your mother?"

"Cursing at someone in her office."

That was never good. Holly tapped her watch and drew a frown face, sending it to Gail. In return, she got a smiling pile of poop. Everyone's favorite. Then, however, she got an 'On my way!' Good. "She's almost done. I need a beer. You?"

"Eh, sure," said Vivian with a heavy shrug.

Holly levered herself up, stretched, and then hugged her daughter. "Hey. Stop being the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders, honey."

The girl leaned into the hug for a moment. "Sorry. I only came in super deep and thoughtful. Maybe Vivian 2.0 will be more fun."

"You're plenty fun," said Holly firmly. "You're just really serious all the time and I love you, but you should come down from your tree once in a while."

Vivian made a face. "Run wild? Sleep around? Get a tattoo?"

Holly laughed. "I would love to see Gail's head explode if you had a tattoo. She still thinks mine are weird."

Pausing, Vivian turned to eye Holly suspiciously. "You have a tattoo? Scratch that, you have multiple tattoos? How do I not know this?"

"Gail's the nudist." Holly shrugged. Her tattoos were the result of Lisa's horrible influence. They were also small and in places that were covered even by her most daring swimsuits and, unlike Gail, the only time the hot tub was enjoyed naked was if they were at the cottage alone. At least the content of the tattoos were tame.

Rather than talk about nudity, though, Holly got the beer as Gail arrived with the food to be grilled. She watched her two Pecks banter and harass each other, like they did, about cooking. Gail wanted to sauté the arugula in a pan on the grill, Vivian disagreed, and yet they ended up doing it Gail's way.

Her not so covert watching was interrupted when Vivian spoke up. "Mom's totally checking you out again."

"I have a fantastic ass," agreed Gail, smirking. "She used to check my ass out when I was in uniform."

"Ew. Mom's a badge bunny?"

Holly grinned. "Don't worry, I find your mother as attractive in her uniform as out."

Before Vivian could voice her views, Gail spoke. "And you've seen the calendar. Holly in that lab coat is ..." She sighed loudly. "Kid, your mom is hot. Sexy librarian is totally my thing."

Smiling fondly, Holly mouthed 'I love you' to Gail. Vivian signed something faster than Holly could read and Gail smacked her shoulder, laughing. "Not at the table," Holly said, admonishingly.

Her Pecks were a never ending supply of amusement at least.


"Hey I saw your ex," said Lara as Vivian parked her bike.

"Which one? I seem to have a collection of them." Vivian tossed the cover on her bike.

"The nurse. Beth. Some chick was dumping her at Dripz."

It was wrong, but Vivian smiled. "Please tell me she threw coffee in her face."

Lara looped her arm through Vivian's in the friendly way. "No, but she called her a cheating bitch."

"That helps." Vivian wriggled, getting herself free. "Don't hug me."

"See, you need to get over that. Cuddle."

"Pecks aren't cuddly," said Chloe, bounding up behind them and hugging them both. Because she was Chloe and that's what she did.

"This isn't how I communicate, Sergeant," complained Vivian.

Hugging her again, Chloe let go. "I need to borrow your bestie, Peck."

"Have fun." She waved at Lara who mouthed 'save me' as Chloe dragged her off. Vivian grinned, thankful that whatever Chloe's scheme de jour was, it didn't involve her. Oh she liked Chloe just fine. The woman was warm and kind and endlessly patient when it came to coaching Vivian through her brief foray into acting back in high school (amusing note: neither Gail nor Holly had any stage experience at all). But Chloe was a lot to take in. Even now, at nearly fifty, she was exuberant and bubbly.

Still grinning and thinking about what she'd avoided, Vivian turned to the lockers and caught Christian's eye. He scowled and looked both annoyed and guilty at the same time. Then he rushed into the mens' locker room. Ugh. Men.

It was the same at Parade. Rich looked oddly apologetic when he sat down on the end of the table. He'd taken her side for what he said was an obvious reason. Vivian saved his life. That was an exaggeration, but she let it go. She didn't think there were sides to be taken, either. C had been an idiot. She popped him one. All he had to do was apologize and she would and then it would be done. Weren't boys supposed to be simple?

Rich pulled out his log book. "Hey, where's Volk?"

"Snagged by Price for more surveillance." They had all done a stint lately. It most consisted of them running coffee and being asked weird questions. Vivian was pretty sure they were all being checked out for the inevitable detective rotation. It would probably be autumn before the slot opened up.

"Glad it's someone else's turn." Rich shook his head. He and Chloe didn't get along.

McNally walked in, ending casual conversation. "Okay, boys and girls. It's springtime. That means what, Fuller?"

"Uh. Spring break?"

Andy smiled. "Yes. Which means anyone who can't be out on the beaches is going to be drinking it up here. Plus this week is Friday the thirteenth and a full moon, so watch yourselves."

While Rich scoffed, Vivian sighed. He eyed her. "Come on, that's a joke, right?" Vivian shook her head and Rich looked worried.

"Assignments are on the board. Serve, protect, enjoy the sunshine." Andy rapped the podium and dismissed them, walking over to the side to talk to Traci about something.

Vivian flipped her log book closed and stood up, checking her assignment (patrol with Christian). The conservatory was open again, though, so at least that was on her patrol route for the day.

She turned to look for Christian only to have Jenny pop up in front of her. "Guess who's swapping?"

"Again? He's such a child." Vivian shook her head. "McNally okay with it?"

Jenny nodded. "She said you guys have to work it out on your own."

"I'd be happy to, if he'd talk to me."

"I don't think punching his face is talking." Jenny mimed a punch and grinned. When Vivian flipped her off, she just laughed. "Come on, grumpy Peck. You can drive."

That helped a little. "Alright. I'll buy coffee."

At least it was warm enough to just wear a long shirt and the vest. The jacket had a tendency to be both too hot and too cold. They could not, of course, ride around with the windows down. Yet. Soon it would be warm enough. Then it would be too hot.

They drove up and down the patrol area, keeping the peace. While it was spring, it was quiet. "This feels like it's going to be another boring day." Jenny grumbled and looked around.

"Oliver said if the day is boring, we did our jobs right."

"I liked Oliver," said Jenny. "How do you know him so well?"

"He was Mom's TO, and then partner sometimes, and Sergeant, and then Inspector." Vivian smiled. "He's basically my uncle. His oldest two kids used to babysit me, and I babysat his youngest."

Jenny was quiet for a long moment. "Holy crap. Hashtag shocked."

"You and Lara need to stop that shit."

"You aren't even on Facebook, are you?" Jenny was teasing.

Of course, Vivian was, but she barely used it anymore. After Matty had been bullied, she kept the hell off it and so did he. "Social media. Great way for people to learn about you."

Jenny waggled a finger. "This is why you're single."

"I didn't ask your opinion on my love life."

"Or lack thereof." Jenny smiled. "Sorry, not my business. But what is, is you are really good at picking out dresses."

Vivian glanced over. "Is that code for 'Vivian please come over tonight and help me pick out a dress for my internet date?' Because you could just ask."

"You do not speak girl," said Jenny. "I mean, really, are you sure you're a lesbian?"

"Being a girl does not give me a great insight on them." Vivian sighed. "Fine, but I want beer."

"Beer and a story after. And yes, I met her on a dating website, which you should try."

"Was it cops-only dot com?" When Jenny blushed, Vivian laughed. "That's the one John- Sgt. Simmons used to find his girlfriend."

Jenny was surprised. "How long has Silver Fox Simmons worked for your mom?"

"With, twenty-one years. He was her first partner as a D." Like Oliver, John was an uncle. Seeing him terrified of Elaine had made him more likable, Vivian remembered that.

"You were really screwed, weren't you? There's nowhere they don't know you."

"At least they like me," said Vivian, smiling.

"You're cryptic, quiet, keep to yourself, and barely say anything about yourself. Doesn't that drive them crazy? I mean, God, the surveillance with Price?"

Vivian grinned. "We have history."

It wasn't like Vivian minded that she was permanently tied to everyone at Fifteen. There was something protective about having them there, forever. It meant she would always have a place.

Their radio crackled. "Officers needed at Allan Gardens."

"We're right there," noted Vivian, turning the car.

Jenny picked up the radio. "Dispatch, 1508. We're less than five out."

"1508, copy. Report is a homeless man sleeping under the ... Some flowers. I can't read that. Sorry."

Laughing, Jenny responded. "Copy, Dispatch. Flowers it is." As she hung up, Jenny smirked. "I kind of miss Tassie. Remember how she used to pronounce things?"

"She nearly got us killed, Jenny. There was no way she was keeping that job."

"I heard she was working at St. Pats now."

Vivian shuddered and she parked the car. "God I hope not." They got out and turned on their body-cameras. As they walked to the conservatory, Vivian lingered by the plaque mounted on a wall. Special thanks to Dr. Lily Stewart. Every time Lily was in town, they came here to look at the various new plants.

"Hi," smiled Jenny at the security guard. "You rang?"

The guard and a docent explained someone was sleeping in the Palm House, and proceeded to give them directions. "In the Palm House? In this weather?" Vivian made a face. "That place is muggy in winter."

"You don't know the zoo but you know the plant house?"

"My grandmother's a botanist. She worked here sometimes, before she moved to Vancouver."

"Is ... Is like everyone a doctor? On that side of the family I mean."

Vivian nodded. "Yep. Up to here with Dr. Stewarts." She held a hand above her head and Jenny laughed.

They went into the Palm House and Vivian led them to the spot where she could just make out a dirty jacket. Jenny did too. "Hi, sir," said the other officer. She glanced at Vivian and squatted, reaching over.

The man surged, scaring Jenny into landing on her ass. And then he laughed. "You fell! Hah hah hah! She fell!"

Vivian smirked. "Cute." She held out a hand for Jenny. "You know you can't sleep here, sir."

"Bah," grumbled the man, sitting back under the plants. "I like it here. Better than the street."

"Really?" Vivian looked around while Jenny dusted herself off. "It's humid, it's kinda rank. I mean, have you smelled the flowers over there? The ones that smell like dead bodies?" She shuddered.

"Smells better than the piss in the alleys," countered the man.

"You have a point." Vivian grinned. "But. We gotta kick you outta here. You know that."

He crossed his arms. "I'm just gonna come back. Spend days here. It's safe. No fucking college dicks screwing with you."

And he had another point. Jenny sighed. "I'm not saying you're wrong."

"But you're gonna haul me out? Arrest me."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Come on, man. Name a place. We'll take you wherever you want to go. Any shelter. Train station. Whatever."

"I hate trains. Shelters are full."

Aha. "I got that," she said to Jenny and took a few steps away to radio that in. While Jenny continued to chat with the man, Vivian called dispatch to find her a spot in a shelter nearby.

It was harder than she liked, finding a place for the man to sleep for the night. In a way, it would be both easier and harder if he was a veteran. But the system was just overloaded. It was terrible. The longer she talked, the more the homeless man laughed. "She can't find a place," he cackled and pointed at her. "Dumb Dyke."

Vivian pointedly ignored it.

"Peck..." Jenny sounded worried.

"I'm on hold with a place up the road."

"No, not that. Do you smell that?"

Vivian blinked and looked at Jenny, confused. Smell? She shook her head. "Just plants." Vivian inhaled deeply.

So did the homeless man. "Not again! Those shits!" He surged to his feet and reached into the plants behind him, pulling out a smoking cart. No. A burning cart. There were flames.

"Holy shit! Uh, call me back, please!" Vivian hung up on the secretary at the shelter and shoved her phone into a pocket, slapping her radio with her free hand and calling in the fire.

Jenny grabbed the homeless man to pull him away. "For Christ's sake, it's just stuff, let it go!"

"It's all my stuff!"

Of course he cared. Of course Jenny didn't understand. She hadn't spent six months living with all her belongings in a pair of bags. And then another three wondering if the women she was living with were really temporary. How long did she get to be at the nice house with nice ladies who were silly. No. Most people didn't understand when 'just stuff' was all you had.

Where were the fire extinguishers? Vivian turned and remembered Lily telling her that they used sprinklers. Of course. They had to. The plants were rare. And there had been a fire a million years ago, back when photos were sepia by default and not some shitty filter. That was when they rebuilt and put in fire suppression methods. Vivian looked up. The sprinkler was out of reach. By the time the fire was high enough, they'd be screwed.

Faucets. There had been one where they walked in, but Vivian remembered... Watering. She ran for the door to the utility closet. No time to ask for a key. She put her whole weight into the kick, splintering the door easily. Well it wasn't meant to be super secure.

Vivian grabbed the hose, making sure it was hooked into a spigot, turned it on and dashed back, uncoiling it as she ran. As soon as the water caught up with her, she covered the nozzle with her thumb to aim at the cart full of stuff. Hopefully the man didn't have any paper or electronics in there...

By the time the fire department came, the smoke was dying out and the homeless man was thanking them for saving his stuff. Very little had been lost, and Jenny was tying to make sure he could keep it.

"Hey, officer?" The fireman, a burly guy, looked worried. "Can you come here?"

Vivian glanced at Jenny and walked over. "Sure. What's up?"

The fireman pushed back the curtain of palm fronds and showed a well dressed young man, preppy and clean cut, and very dead. "That... Is a problem."

"Yeah," sighed Vivian, reaching for her radio.

She never thought she'd miss Tassie in dispatch, but right now she sure did.


"It's probably good Noelle retired," said Traci as she handed the report over to Gail. "She was pathologically terrified of fire."

Gail arched her eyebrows. "Fire? No wonder she never came to the cabin. Why are you working this case anyway?"

"Last homicide." Traci shrugged and looked out of Gail's windows. "You sure?"

Smiling, Gail flipped the report open. "I'm sure. Oliver's been giving me shit about not doing this for years anyway."

Traci looked suspicious. "Steve was never going to go. It didn't matter."

"That too." Gail frowned. "Why aren't these on the network? Can that be your last job as homicide lead? Finish the modernization?"

Her friend smiled. "Unlikely. I've been making all my rookies for the last ten years do input. We're nowhere near done with the backlog."

"Still the fastest way to learn the system." Gail skimmed the report, her eyes stopping on a name. "Peck and Aronson hauled the homeless guy out?"

"Yeah. Someone set his stuff on fire. I'm waiting on the video feeds, but it feels like some prank gone wrong."

Gail flipped through the pictures. "College kids? School's almost over. Can't be a rush."

"Graduation pranks?"

"Okay, there is that." Gail paused and frowned as she saw graffiti. "Who the hell... If you find out who did that, I'll give you a raise."

Traci laughed. "I thought that came with the promotion."

Smiling, Gail leaned back. "Inspector Traci Nash, head of Guns and Gangs."

"You really think Zettel can do the job?"

"Not as good as you, but ... You've been using him as your sergeant for five years, Traci. Gotta cut him loose and let him run the show. Besides, it's not like we're making Duncan head of anything."

They both laughed. "Okay, fair point." Traci sighed. "Zettel, head of homicide. Do you think this is how Ollie felt when you got promoted?" Of course Oliver had been their inspector when Gail had been put in charge of OC.

"Probably." Gail didn't really feel afraid though. She'd seen people come and go now for twenty five years. No. Forty years. She'd been ten when her uncle, Bill's brother, had died. That had been the first time she'd been to an End of Watch call, and the first time she'd seen someone take over a position. It had been her mother, not her father, who took over the position of head of homicide.

Elaine hadn't been ready at all. Now, with retrospect and all her experience, she remembered the look in her mother's eyes, and Gail knew it was fear. The mighty Elaine Peck had been scared to take over homicide. Gail had been scared to take over Organized Crime. Traci was scared to take over as head of Guns and Gangs. Hell, even Holly had been scared to take over of Chief Medical Examiner.

"You ... You look so calm about all this, Gail. I remember when we were scared to death rooks."

"Oh I'm still scared to death, Trace. Every day I think someone's going to realize I have no clue what the hell in doing." She smiled. "Until then, though, I keep doing the best job I can."

Traci smiled. "That's good advice. When did you get so smart?"

"Around the time my kid stopped being a teenager."

They both laughed. "Oh god, yes, teen years are the worst," agreed Traci. "Leo took the job in Texas."

Gail blinked, surprised. "Wow. He's leaving?"

"Yeah. Three months."

"Crap. We'll have to find someone to rent the place... You don't think Sophie will want it?"

"She said not." Traci shrugged.

For their college years, Sophie, Winnie, and Leo had made a Three's Company home out of the loft that had once been Bill Peck's. But then Sophie went to grad school at Stanford and Winnie took the oil job up north. Leo had technically been living there, alone, for a few years, but even he was barely home. The odd computer job he had sent him all over the world and, apparently now, to Texas. While Sophie had moved back, she was living and working with her friend Kate from her foster days.

"Good for him," said Gail decisively. "I haven't a clue what he does, but good for him."

Laughing, Traci gestured at the folder on Gail's desk. "Well, I'm waiting on your wife to ID a half charred preppy boy. Maybe I can send Rich undercover."

"Chloe called dibs. She's planning a sting." Gail couldn't help but smile a little maliciously.

"Ooooh, who gets to be the boy toy?"

"Probably Rich. He's got the look. I think Christian could pull it off if he tried. Dirty him up a bit."

"I want photos of your kid as a hooker."

Gail snorted. "As much as I think she'd be good at it, unlikely. She's too ..."

"Butch?"

"That. Which sucks. She'd be better than McNally."

"Anyone was better than Andy at that," agreed Traci, smirking. "God she was so terrible at undercover. Then ..."

When Traci paused, Gail nodded. "Then she spent six months with Nick... Wasn't that fun times?" Six months when Andy fell in love with Nick, who was supposed to be dating Gail, who had abandoned Gail when she needed him. Not that she'd been capable of asking him, to be honest. "Jesus I was a hot mess then."

"You'd had a shit year," Traci said softly.

"Couple of 'em. What the hell good came out of that?"

"Me." Traci smiled at her. "We got to be friends."

Gail laughed. "Wow, and people say I'm the vain narcissist."

"Well you are. I'm a realist." Traci grinned. "And an optimist."

"An optimist wouldn't be freaking out about taking over Guns and Gangs, Traci." Her sister-in-law flipped her off. "Fine! Fine. How's your last homicide going?"

"Thank you. Back logged. What's going on in the ME's office today? Rodney said no autopsy till tomorrow if I'm lucky."

Gail hesitated. Well. Traci was about to be her right-hand-man. "There was an archeological find this morning. A mass grave, looks like from the early 1900s, so Holly thinks it's from the Influenza outbreak. Which wouldn't be a big deal except we found it because of a relatively fresh body. So they have to run trace on everyone and check if any other bodies are modern."

Admittedly it was incredibly cool, or so Gail thought. Holly had been very excited about it at lunch, launching into full on babble mode. But the longer Holly's day got, and the more work she realized would have to be done now, the grumpier Holly became. She'd been trying to get a grant for the lab and this could make or break her.

"Oh wow." Traci was appreciatively shocked. "I'll make sure no one gives her guys shit."

"Appreciated. I don't know when I'll see my wife next."

"Meanwhile my husband will have a nine to five job and no extra hours."

Now Gail flipped off Traci, smirking. "No offense, I'll keep my wife."

"I would too," laughed Traci. "Well. If I'm going to be out an autopsy for a while, I'll send the rookies to pound the street. Flash a photo. At least we have an ID."

"Contact the family yet?"

Traci nodded. "They're not local so they won't be here to positive ID him till tomorrow."

Gail nodded. "Take the rookies and make 'em pound the street. Elaine would tell you that's why they're there."

That meant Gail was the first home at the end of the day. She made homemade Chinese food; pepper steak and brown rice. It was food she knew would re-heat well. As it cooked, she read over Traci's case notes. The dead body was weird. He was dressed wrong for the season and he wasn't in a make-out place. Too close to the nasty smelling plants.

When a bushed Vivian got home, Gail asked her about the location and she too admitted it struck her as odd. The only person who liked the smell of those plants was Holly, who loved corpse flowers. Why the Stewart family had been surprised that Holly was a pathologist, Gail would never know.

But Vivian had also spent more of her day getting the somewhat asshole homeless man they'd found to a shelter, and making sure he had clothes. Then Vivian made a passing comment about how living out of a bag wasn't comfortable before she went upstairs. Sometimes Gail forgot that her kid had spent half a year as a foster kid. Sometimes she forgot Vivian had barely unpacked at their townhouse for months.

That Vivian, the quiet little girl who called her Miss Gail and who barely smiled, felt like another person. It was like rookie Gail. No. Goth Gail. She was a bitch and a half. But then again, it was like how she didn't feel the same after Perik. Nothing had ever really felt the same after that, mused Gail as she boxed up lunches. That one moment, that one second where the door hit her face, and the world was totally different.

The same feeling had struck her the first time she'd hugged Vivian. Really hugged her. Like the world had shifted and there was an new order of things. She no longer was afraid of the world for her own sake. There was someone she had to protect and treasure at the risk of everything.

And then there was the moment in interrogation when she kissed Holly. That too was a moment where everything changed. It had been building for weeks, almost months, where Gail had felt a craving to be with the one person who made her feel ... She'd said that to Holly once, early in their friendship, and innocently Holly had asked "Feel what?" When Gail had shaken her head, Holly had just smiled and went on with the conversation.

Did Holly look back on that moment, that sentence, and realize what had been said? Or did she just take it on faith now, after almost twenty years of marriage, that it was what it was?

Gail tapped her watch, sending a heartbeat to Holly.

There were so many ways to say "I love you" without having to say the words that, even now, were a struggle to voice in public. In private was another matter. Alone, in Holly's arms where it was safe, it was easy. Even in their home it should have been easy. But it wasn't. They were words Gail honestly didn't remember hearing growing up. She couldn't recall her parents saying it to each other, let alone her.

So was it a surprise that Gail often faltered when trying to say, to show Holly that she loved her? The watch and it's stupid heartbeat, making a photo set of their youth, cooking dinner, getting the car cleaned, buying the wine she loved, changing the sheets, wearing her favorite nightie. Love. Sometimes that was easier.

Her watch pinged her back.

I'm running late. Obviously. Science moves at its own pace. I love you too.

Gail smiled at the message and sent back a note that she understood, and dinner was in the fridge for when Holly got home.

It was hours before Holly got home, exhausted and grumpy. Gail was actually in bed reading when her wife dragged herself upstairs. She watched the doctor all but stumble through a shower and into her sleepwear and, finally, into bed. Holly mumbled a comment that was half a curse at work and half an endearment for Gail, and she was asleep in moments.

It was adorable.

Gail pulled the sheets up and over Holly's shoulder, putting her book down and curling up around the brunette. Her arm fit perfectly over Holly's waist, her body matched the curves right, making their position incredibly comfortable. The smell of Holly, the warm, oddly citrusy scent that wafted off her, was soothing.

Closing her eyes, Gail nestled in and relaxed.

When she woke up, the sun was peeking into their bedroom and Holly was toying with her hair. "Hey," whispered Gail.

"Hey." Holly kissed her shoulder. "Good morning." Warm and soft, Holly was pressed up against her back, her fingers moving from Gail's hair to her arm and then her side.

Enjoying the sensation, Gail closed her eyes and smiled. "Feels nice."

Holly didn't reply. She kept caressing Gail's side and arm, fingers gently traipsing along the fabric until she found Gail's collar and tugged it down to kiss the bare skin. It was early morning and Holly was amorous. This was not unusual. This had never been unusual.

Well. No. The first time Gail had woken up to the adventurous and roaming hands of Holly in the morning, it was surprising. Morning wood was a phenomenon she'd been familiar with and had taken advantage of on some occasions with boys. It was entirely unexpected from a lesbian. So from that end, yes, finding herself at the delightful mercy of Holly at four in the morning was unusual back then. It wasn't anymore.

Of course, it was still very much delightful, just as much then as it was now. When Holly sighed and slipped a hand under the hem of Gail's nightgown, it was very much as welcome as it had been those years ago. Holly knew her so well and especially how to make her burn, long and slow. It took a little longer to rev up their engines these days, but God, Holly was good at that.

In very little time at all, Gail was reduced to very small words. She tangled her hands in the sheets and Holly's hair, holding her wife close as she shuddered and gasped. "Morning," whispered Holly, stroking Gail's hair as she came back down to earth.

Gail exhaled a long breath. "You said that already."

"Seemed familiar." Holly's lips were soft on the curve of Gail's jaw. "Were you awake when I got home, or was I dreaming?"

"Awake." Gail shifted to her side and smiled. "Morning." She reached up to brush Holly's hair out of her face. "You were bushed."

"Mm. Archeological cases take a long time." Holly's brown eyes drifted closed as Gail began to return the attention that had been paid to her. "Remind me to call my mom later," asked Holly. Promising to do so, Gail eased one hand under the elastic of Holly's shorts. "Much later, oh, that feels so nice, Gail." The hands that had been exploring her moments ago were now gripping Gail's back and nightgown tightly.

And Holly cursed softly, the good way, as her back arched and her body tensed. And then it let go and Holly laughed her delight softly, like she often did. Smiling and laughing as Gail kissed her. "I love you too," said Gail, gently pulling her hand out and snuggling up along Holly's side.

Holly laughed again. "I needed that," she said, eyes closed and the goofy smile stuck on her face. "God, I needed that."

Yawning, Gail checked the clock. They had another hour at least. "Sleep, morning person. One more hour."

"One more hour," agreed Holly, snuggling close.


Sometimes the break in a case was when you expected to see one thing and yet you found another. Holly was used to that, frankly.

"Hello," she muttered as she studied the neck of the dead preppy boy on her table.

"Is that a good hello or a bad one?" Traci Peck (née Nash) walked in with the smell of coffee.

"Good. He didn't die in the fire." Holly pushed her glasses back up her nose with the back of her wrist. "I mean, fire is not on my list of preferred ways to die. The smoke and the burns? Nope. I'm for something quick or at least while drugged out of my mind." Holly tilted her head to focus on the discoloration. "Of course, being choked is not high on the list either. No signs of a struggle... I wonder if he was drugged. Well, we'll have tox reports soon enough. I put that in for you last night before I went home."

Track said nothing. To the point that Holly looked up, confused. Her sister-in-law was holding up her phone and had it aimed at Holly. "Thank you," said Traci, grinning.

"I'm not even going to ask." Holly shook her head. The Pecks all had a penchant for recording her talking.

"Probably wise. Is there a painless way to go?"

"Not so far as we're sure. It's not like you can ask people as they die to rate their pain."

The detective sighed. "So. Choked?"

"Yes, by a wide cloth. Maybe a scarf." Holly looked again and then pressed the floor pedal to raise the table.

Traci made a noise. "Woah! When did you get that?"

Grinning, Holly tapped it again. "Last month. It's my favorite new toy."

"Do all the tables do that?"

"Just this one. For now. It's not in the budget to update them all." But everyone liked this one. Holly loved it. Since she'd installed it, she hadn't needed to see her chiropractor or schedule a massage after every autopsy. "There wasn't anything that matched this bruising pattern in the evidence. But I heard there was a homeless man?"

Coming over for a closer look, Traci explained, "There was. But there was no trace evidence ... I hope. You have all his stuff, and young Peck got him a place to sleep. She's convinced he's just a victim of the latest economic downturn. But he's a bit of an asshole. Apparently he was making some homophobic rants, and she just ignored them."

Holly shook her head. "Gail had words about that, I'm sure. I didn't get home until late."

"Yeah, I meant to ask how the archeological find went." The brunette held up the coffee. "Gail implied you'd be home late."

How she loved her Peck. Holly smiled. "An understatement." Pulling off her gloves, she took the coffee and sighed happily. "The night shift didn't find anything that matched ... Did you interrogate your homeless man?"

Reading from her phone, Traci nodded. "We did. Wentworth Grey. Former CEO of an investment firm based out of the city. When the market crashed the last time, he lost everything. Apparently he put his eggs in one basket. He sold what he had left to send his kid to college and then walked off, living homeless and doing odd jobs. Claims he's happier now, except for the random college student who screws with him."

They both looked at the dead body.

"It's possible it's a retaliation killing." Holly frowned. "I don't think so. This looks... Less."

Traci shrugged. "You see more of these. I defer to your judgement. And, since we have no tox report yet, is there any reason for me to be here?"

"Besides the excellent coffee? No. Though thank you."

"Thank your kid. She caught me on my way over. Very un-Pecklike."

Holly smiled. While most people might see that as non-standard Peck behavior, it was how both her peculiar Pecks expressed a range of emotions. After Traci left, Holly texted her daughter a thanks.

The autopsy was inconclusive. No secret hard drives or mini SD cards hidden in the body. There was no special information to be gleaned from his bones or the trace evidence found on him. When the tox report came back, Holly made a face, surprising the computer tech who'd just finished with her computer. Upgrades. Always upgrades.

"Is something wrong, ma'am?"

"No. Nothing like a healthy dose of horse tranquilizers to knock a person out."

The tech looked a little horrified. "Horse tranquilizers?"

"Welcome to my world." Holly sighed. "Thanks. Looks like everything's working. I'll let you know if I have a problem with the monitor."

Taking his cue for what it was, the tech left and closed the door. Holly read through the results carefully and called Traci. "Anything good for me, Doc?"

Holly tapped her keyboard. "I'm sending you the tox results. Horse tranquilizers. The good stuff. Hard to get in large doses, but you don't need much to take out a person."

"Would a vet tech be able to snag it?"

"Probably, but they don't have it at any places in the city."

"I'll run a search," said Traci with a sigh. "Parents will be here this afternoon."

Holly winded. "Let me know when you have a time. I'll clear my schedule."

"Thanks, Holly. You're my favorite."

Laughing, Holly hung up and bent to the part of her job she liked the least. Paperwork was such a bore. But she had reviews and evaluations and budgets and proposals and a million other non-science things to do. It was her curse. She wanted the job, after all. Maybe Gail was the smart one, staying at her spot and refusing the promotions.

It was hours later when a niggling thought wriggled its way to the forefront. She put aside the budget review and pulled up the information on her dead body from the influenza mass grave. They'd classified it as 'modern' but that really was just in comparison. The other bodies were around a hundred and this was maybe thirty at most.

They'd X-rayed the body, looking for breaks, and Holly clicked through the images to find the skull. And she stared. She knew that pattern. She'd seen it before, many times, on an series of unsolved cases. The blow was behind and from the side, crushing the back of the skull in. The weapon was round, but not a bat or a lead pipe. Holly had experimented with the CSIs on a hundred weapons and items, trying to find it.

But ... Where was the car? There was always a car. Or ... She frowned. The current case, the one she had with Traci, had a man tanked on horse tranquilizers. The mass grave was near the stables the police used for training. "No way..." Holly grabbed her phone. "Rodney, did you make any headway on the bones that didn't match?"

That had been a big problem, and something they'd tasked the newbies with. Match the bones to make bodies. It was time consuming and hard and Rodney was in charge of that.

"Hello to you too, boss. Yeah, we have a collection of them. Why?"

"Look for a horse or a bicycle maybe. Probably about as old as the modern body we found."

"Uh... Will a motorized bicycle do?"

Holly almost dropped her phone. "Please don't be kidding me, Rodney."

"Never! Well, not about work. Your wife is fair game."

"Rodney!"

"What? What? One of the interns found a busted ass ancient scooter. Didn't I update... No. Hang on. Lemme update the case files with the map. The CSIs are insanely nit-picky. They mapped out everything."

"Is this your way of telling me the scoot was by the modern guy?"

Rodney hesitated. "I hate when you do that mind reading thing."

Holly fist pumped. "Check out the skull fractures."

The sound of typing prefaced Rodney's curse. "Are you shitting me? This guy!?"

Before Holly could answer, her phone buzzed. "Shit. I have a viewing... Match it up, treat it like one of those and see if you can pinpoint a date. I think we have victim zero."


Vivian was used to Gail getting a little crazy when it came to convoluted cases. Generally Holly was more methodical and quiet. At that moment, there were case notes strewn across the living room floor when Vivian got home. "Do I want to know?"

"Not related to your case," said Holly, sitting on the back of the couch and staring down at her papers.

"Oh. Good. You looked ... Distracted at the ID." Vivian had been grabbed by Traci to come with the family on the identification of the young man she and Jenny had found dead. Dale Taft.

Holly looked up, stricken. "Shit."

"Nah, I don't think anyone but me or Traci noticed, Mom. We know you." She peered down at the papers and caught the name 'Peck, V.' on one. Craning her neck, Vivian read the date. "Your head basher?"

Making a noise of agreement, Holly nodded and pointed at the top left. "1986. Bicycle. Different weapon, but it matches the ones from the rest of the 80s and 90s." Her finger gestured to the row at the top. "Second row, 2000s. We're on to cars now. It's not until row three, 2010, that it looks like what I'm used to. Since then, 2020 and 2030, we get four deaths a year, max, usually only one."

Vivian's mind boggled. "Hold the phone. Mom, you're saying this is ... Jesus this is older than me? There's no way, that guy's be-"

"More than one perp," Holly noted. "The purple tabs indicate a blow delivered by someone between five-ten and six-one, depending on swing. The green are from someone about five-six. Orange ... Orange is for when I can't tell. The victim was in a position that implied they were sitting or lying down." Her mother started to point at each folder, describing the differences between the blows and the strange similarities.

It was interesting to listen to Holly dissect the damage done to the skull. When Gail talked about cases, she talked about motives and behavior. Holly, on the other hand, delved into the minutia of the fractures and the depth of the damage. Her theory, developed over the years of reading and re-reading the notes, was of a group of people who performed similar, if not the same, crimes over the course of forty years.

No, it was fascinating.

Even when she watched her mother at autopsies, or the few times she'd been allowed to hang out in the labs as a teenager, she saw the teacher in Holly. Vivian was used to seeing someone explain things so she might understand the how and why. The alleles meant this. The commonalities meant that. The eye-color meant yes, it was probably that the man Andy McNally called her father was, in fact, not her biological father, but Gail had asked them to shut up about that and spare Andy for a change.

This time, Holly was talking about possibilities and parameters and probabilities. Holly explained how you could see the blow had distinct similarities across the years, at different growth periods, meaning it was the same person. People. You could track each person. And Holly had done just that. She'd labeled each folder with a letter indicating one of five people.

"But," said Holly at length. "My genius fails me. Because I don't have enough trace evidence to connect the people. The items, the blunt objects, I'm making some headway. I have to budget for the fake heads though." Holly sighed. "I wish I lived on TV, where they just always had the budget for things."

"I don't," said Vivian. "TV cops get shot at a lot more."

Pursing her lips, Holly appeared to fight a smile. "You have a point."

"I learned from the best." Vivian grinned. "Chicken and pasta? You can keep nerding out and try to find a weapon signature."

"Thank you." Holly looked sheepish, but was already flipping open a folder to compare photos.

She was still at it when Gail got home. Holly didn't even look up. "Mon singe, what is your mother doing?"

"Solving a forty year mystery. Check my sauce?"

Gail shook her head but tasted the sauce. "Oh this is nice. Which pasta are you using?"

"Rigatoni."

"Penne." Gail swapped the boxes for her. "Gotta be penne with that sauce, kid. How long has the good doctor been like that?"

Vivian grinned. "Since before I got home. She took a break to explain it to me. Did you know how smart Mom is?"

Her blonder mother laughed. "Sweetheart, your mother is the smartest woman I know." Gail poured the pasta into the water. "She's brilliant. You should try reading her articles."

Screwing up her face, Vivian turned the meat in the pan. "Mom, I actually like math and I think her articles are confusing and kinda boring."

"You're a heathen. How did I raise a shy, prudish, heathen?" Hanging her head, the detective stirred the pasta.

"I'm not a heathen. I just ... I'm not interested." She wasn't going be a detective like Gail was. And she wasn't not in love with Holly, not like Gail was, so there was no draw to read and admire Holly's work. Truth told, she had read some of Holly's articles. They had been over her head when she'd been younger, and now that she could understand them, they weren't interesting.

Gail sampled a piece of pasta. "Have you thought about trying any of the rotations? With Traci going up, they should have a spot on the D's soon."

"Lara's applying," said Vivian quietly.

"Two people can apply."

"I don't want it." Vivian glanced over, eyeing her mother for disappointment.

There was none. "Good. Don't be something because you think you have to be." Gail smiled and lifted the pasta colander out of the water. "You could do horses."

Vivian snorted. "I could be a motorcycle cop."

Her mother laughed. "K-9."

"I'd be better at it than Andy."

"Anyone would be better at that than Andy." Gail scoffed and dished out the pasta onto the deep plates. "Hey, Lunchbox, can you come up for air?"

The very distracted reply was mumbled. "Does it come with food and a database of impressions from various blunt objects?"

Gail rolled her eyes as she looked at Vivian, clearly beseeching her daughter with a 'see what I put up with?' expression. "Yes to the first, no to the second. Didn't the LA crime lab come up with that?"

And that got Holly's attention. "They did! Brilliant!" She pulled her phone out and tapped into it. "No I'm not calling them."

"Good, because we have rules about work at the table." Gail winked and poured the sauce on as Vivian handled the chicken. "That's a nice sear, kid."

"I learned from the best, Mom."

While Holly did tidy up her folders and join them for dinner, she was distracted to the point that Gail teasingly had to remind her to eat. Once prodded, Holly ate quickly and then apologetically excused herself and vanished into the office. "Oh my nerd." Gail's soft laughter made it sound like this wasn't abnormal.

Vivian frowned. "How come that's only new to me?"

"Holly ... Holly was of the opinion that delving into her cases in front of you would possibly trigger flashbacks. And since she's more visual than I am, she has to spread all that crap out and that could be more traumatic."

That was true. Most of Gail's obsessive work was done just by staring at the computer and reading. "So all those times she locked herself in your office? She was doing that?"

"Mostly. She concentrates differently and talks to herself a lot." Gail took Holly's plate and dumped the leftovers onto her own, digging in. "She probably still has the door open, though. I mean, you're pretty grown up now."

"Still living at home," noted Vivian, despondently.

Gail was quiet for a moment. "Do you want to move out?" The truth was Vivian wasn't sure. She honestly didn't know if she was embarrassed to still live with her parents, relieved to have their support, or frustrated at how everyone else viewed it. "I didn't move out until I was older than you. Of course, my parents didn't make me lunch."

That made Vivian laugh. "How the hell do you guys make time for all of it?"

"The things you care about, you figure out how to do it. We wanted a bigger family."

Vivian shook her head. "I do not want kids right now."

"I didn't either at your age," Gail noted. "But. Well, if things change, be open to them."

"Are you going to give me some drivel about how kids will enrich my life?"

Gail laughed. "No. But. If you fall for a women and she happens to have kids, or want them, keep an open mind." Gesturing at the stairs with her fork, Gail added, "Holly didn't want kids. And I didn't want to ever get married."

She'd heard some of that before. "How did you talk her into kids?"

"I didn't. I just ... I decided that a life with her was worth a life without kids. The only time back then that I felt alive, or really felt anything at all, was with her." Gail sighed. "I was pretty messed up, kid."

There were a lot of differences in how Gail was screwed up and how Vivian was. They came broken in very different ways. Not broken. Holly would get on their cases if she or Gail said that again. "I'm glad she changed her mind."

Gail leaned over and kicked Vivian under the table. "You are such a little brat. All smug."

"What?! I am glad!" Vivian rubbed her shin. "You're a horrible person, Mom. You know that, right?"

"So I am often told." Gail grinned and got up. "I'm going to read upstairs. Unless you want to play a game."

"I cooked, you do the dishes." Vivian got up. "And I have to be at work early. Traci wants us to knock on doors and try to find people who knew our vic."

Gail grinned. "I don't envy you the grunt work or the polyester."

Stretched out on her bed later, Vivian watched her fan make lazy circles. She liked her room. It looked out on the side yard, the relatively thin strip between houses. There were no windows on that side of the house across the fence, oddly enough. The neighbor's were an older couple with grandchildren closer to Chris and Jerry's age than her own. They were nice, though.

Vivian had rearranged her room a few times. The desk lived by the window, the bed on the side of it, bracketed by two night stands. Gail had never been a fan of kids beds. As a child, Vivian had a full sized bed. In college, she'd gotten a queen sized which just fit in the small room. It was nice to have a roomy bed, even if it was eternally occupied by her alone.

Maybe it would be best to stop dwelling. She'd been dwelling and brooding for most of her life. It hadn't really gotten her very far. What had Gail said? Live a little. Get out. Do things. Enjoy being young and free and embrace what she had in life.

Okay then. She should try that.


The fire was related. Gail frowned at the report. "Look, Shay, I would never tell you how to do your job," she said to her cousin. "But... You guys are sure?"

Across the phone, the fireman snorted. Firewoman. Firefighter. Whatever. "Sure as anything, Gail. And the autopsy backs me. The kid is a homicide, that's all you. But the fire is the same accelerant as the last one."

"Awesome. I needed a fucking firebug." Gail groaned and put her head on her desk. "Not enough data?"

"To ... What? My hose monkeys put fires out more than try and sort out why they happen."

"Which is why, Captain Peck, I'm asking you. Arson specialist."

Her cousin, a natural blonde, snorted again. "Maybe. Three fires seem related. Get your head off your desk and read the second file."

"Why? You're just going to tell me that the pattern is the same, but with three data points, you can't give me a lock down on areas."

"The old tenements."

Gail did pick her head up. "The what now?"

"The ones the city is tearing down. Gail, I made you a damn map."

She tapped her computer and pulled up the second file. "That's sketchy as hell.."

"Yeah, well it's what I got. The brand of accelerant is plain old gas. Low grade as fuck. Which they sell there. Add in the trace your wife's lab found on the hobo's crap, the stuff that didn't match, and it's the top pick."

"He's not a hobo, he's homeless." Gail frowned. "You've got four places listed here, including the bridge where drugs is trying to clean shit up."

"It's low on my list."

"We're sending the rookies undercover there soon."

Shay was silent for a moment. "Awwww is baby Viv gonna be a hooker?"

Gail snickered. "She may." The jury was out, given Vivian's height and general appearance. She'd be a hard sell.

"Here's hoping she's got a little more confidence undercover." For all Vivian was mature and responsible, she lacked personal self-assuredness in herself as more than a cop just then. "You've gotta really sell that."

"I know. But Holly keeps saying I have to let her fail at stuff, too."

"See, this is why I never married and had a kid."

"And here I thought it was because Patty was still married to that asshole when you guys got together."

Shay snorted. "Shut up. Unlike you, when this Peck says she's never getting married, she's sticking by it. Mrs. Twenty Years."

"I said no weddings. Didn't have that, as much as it pisses off Mom."

"Fair enough. We're coming, y'know. Patty will be back in town by your anniversary."

"Oh good. I like her more than you." They both laughed. "You know, Patty Peck would be a shitty name."

"Patterson's her last name, you shit." Sparrow Patterson went by her last name for what everyone agreed were obvious reasons.

"Yeah and your name is Shayne but you go by Shay. Tell me, was your pickup line about how your first names weren't gay enough?"

"I'm hanging up, Detective. Let me know if you need me to pronounce the big words on the report."

"I'll just ask my wife," Gail said blithely. The line clicked off and she laughed. Harassing Shay had become a lot more fun since Gail had sorted out she was into women. Other people might have stopped giving their cousin shit, finding out what they had in common, but Gail cheerfully used it as more ammunition for her amusement.

Playtime being over, Gail read the report in earnest and sent a copy to Traci. After all, this was her murder, and she needed to know the fire was unrelated. The fire would be John's case, though. It seemed to be neither guns nor gangs, and while it was an arson and they had a group just for that, it was serial and that meant it was Major Crimes.

A copy went to John as well. He was good with long, cold, cases. It probably stemmed from his time in Missing Persons. Absently, Gail sent him Holly's work on the head-basher case as well.

That was the downside to her job. She didn't get to solve the cases all the time. She oversaw them and directed them, but Gail had to trust in the general brilliance of her people. They were, all of them, pretty damn smart. That didn't stop Gail from rooting through everyone's files and checking the status on various cases.

Just as she finished checking the last file, her phone rang. "Hello, Mother," sighed Gail as she answered.

"Hello, sweetheart. The Penny is still booked, so I've got four hotels."

Gail winced. "Mom, come on. We could just have it at the house."

"We did your fifteenth at the house. You deserve a little pomp and celebration."

"I hate both of those, Mom. I'm really not into shared experiences."

Elaine ignored her protests. "The Four Seasons, the Ritz, the Archer, the Fairmount York-"

"Not the Archer." Gail snapped and she felt the tense silence on the line. "I don't care. Just pick the hotel we're staying at. Then I can get drunk."

If Elaine noticed or recognized why Gail snapped, she said nothing about it. "Fairmount. They have a lovely tea service, which I will schedule for you, along with a spa treatment."

"I'll try not to miss it."

"Again."

Gail tried to chuckle, but knew it felt flat. "I'm sorry. Hotels just... Something about Holly in hotels really turns me on."

"Oh I know." Elaine laughed tensely too. "I felt the same way with you father back in the day."

Forcing levity, Gail smiled thinly. "Is that why you and dad always spent anniversaries out?"

"Mostly. Your brother is less enlightened."

True. Steve did often complain about their parents and sex. Though Gail suddenly remembered when that stopped and her parents just didn't seem to have sex anymore. Around the time of her failed wedding. When Elaine gave Gail five years to sort her shit out. Was that when they fell out of love? Huh. "Viv's like Steve."

"Your daughter sets up roadblocks for herself that are entirely unnecessary." Elaine sighed. "She's too broody by half, Gail."

"I know, Mom. I'd hoped she'd grow out of it." Vivian had a marked tendency to dwell and brood. She spent too much time in her own heard, worried about her heart's ability to love.

"It's the opposite of you. You ran into things head first, sure your bite would protect you." Elaine made a noise. "Well. That's something I can distract myself with."

Gail snorted. "Please don't make my daughter your project. You have terrible taste in blind dates."

Her mother laughed on the phone. "Oh, sweetheart. You know why I picked those men for you."

Smiling, Gail did. "Yeah, okay, fine."

"Yeah, okay, fine." Elaine mimicked her tone. "You have been married twenty years, Gail. An accomplishment. And I adore your wife and your daughter, so I would like to throw the party you robbed me of by eloping-"

"Oh for god's sake, Mom! We were hardly talking back then!"

"And I'm a mother. I need a happy wedding related party. It's like heroin."

The laugh crept out and Gail grinned. "Okay. I give. Throw me a party. What am I wearing?"

"Slinky dress. Something tight that makes your wife forget to close her mouth."

"You're aware I can do that to her in just a t-shirt, Mom."

"A dress, Gail."

"Holly's going to wear pants."

"Gail!"

"Dress! I know, I know. The black one, off the shoulders, above the knee. Heels. Bright red lipstick, and yes, I'm getting my hair cut and dyed the week before."

Elaine sighed. "Platinum? Must you? You have such lovely hair."

"Holly likes it best. Kinda drives her wild."

Her mother laughed. "Well I won't get in the way of that, sweetheart. I'll call Lily and work out the details."

"Thanks, Mom."

"You're welcome. Thank you for letting me fuss, dear." When Gail made a general comment of 'any time,' her mother surprised her. "I'm serious, Gail. Thank you... I love you."

This time, the moment of silence was less tense. "I love you too, Mom," Gail replied quietly. They hung up and Gail eyed her phone. She could count the number of times Elaine had said that to her on her fingers and toes.

She was still looking at her phone when John rapped on the door and poked his head in. "Hey, anything I need to know before I go see this awesome explanation the Doc has about the head basher?"

Gail blinked up at John. "Uh. Oh, she spent most of last night coming up with some grand unification theory about it."

"So she's wired on caffeine?"

"No, I actually convinced her to sleep." Gail smiled. "She's just in full on nerd mode. She may babble."

John sighed dramatically. "I'll take my chances." He pulled his head back and then stopped. "You okay?"

"Me? Yeah, just thinking." But her former partner just did that small frown thing. "What?" Gail growled at him.

"You look like it's one of those 'negative memory days' is all."

Gail rolled her eyes. "Get out of here, you asshole!"

Skittering off, and laughing, John closed the door. In many ways, he filled the void created by Oliver's departure. Gail sighed. And now Steve. July. He was going to retire shortly after his birthday. While Gail had joked that it was so he could get one last round of presents from the force, she knew it was for him to fill out that last year to qualify for a slightly better retirement package.

And Gail... Gail was not expected to retire. Everyone said she was never going to leave the force. And really, Gail got that. Besides Holly, it was the only place she felt like she belonged. Both had been a hard road, difficult to come to terms with herself. Difficult to accept she'd never be what she'd been told to be growing up. But she did like who she was now.

Gail rubbed the side of her neck and then her forehead. But her mother had to mention the damned Archer hotel. At least the Fairmount looked nothing like it. Gail had avoided fancy modern hotels like that ever since Perik.

Maybe her new self could chase the old away for a night.


"Hear me out."

John arched his eyebrows. "You sound like my boss."

"Well we've been together over two decades, John," Holly said, a little snidely. "But listen for a second."

Holding his hands up, John smiled. "Please. Science me."

Holly huffed and gestured to her wall. Where Gail had a fancy projection system, Holly's budget went to tools and not toys. Not that Gail's system was a toy. It had helped solve a lot of complex crimes, but it wasn't really something Holly needed. So she had a massive whiteboard.

"I've broken the attacks into four groups, based on injury patterns. Basically it's per weapon. Within each group, we have unique individuals identified as using what I believe is the same weapon. This accounts for the discrepancies in height, depth, and angles." She tapped the boxes within her columns. "And the lines connect individuals across groups."

"Same person, different weapons... I like how you laid this out. So ... Person A used two weapons, B did three, and you're all the way down to G. I'm creeped out, by the way. Seven different people? Jesus."

Holly smiled. "I'm pretty sure A and C are dead or retired. Nothing since the nineties."

"Whoopee, five. This is... How did we not see the pattern before?"

"We were looking too close at cars. Once I opened up to bicycles and Vespas, it gelled." She sighed. "Still don't have a good lock on the weapons. I'm pretty sure the first was an old tire iron, the really old ones. Except it's really short."

John tilted his head. "Car crank maybe?" He mimed turning a crank. "We're talking 1900s and the flu, right?"

Holly was surprised. "That's possible. I've never been a car person."

"When we were checking out the Rose family, I ended up looking at all their collection."

"And the BMW guys liked you better." That had been a sore spot for Gail for years. After all, her car was the one that had been blown up.

John grinned. "Give you a bone to gnaw on, eh?"

Holly blinked. "Bones. Well now that's a possibility. It would have to be a femur, though." She mimed swinging it a couple times. "Could work. And it would explain why we never could find the weapons."

"You're serious?"

"Quite. But... I'm thinking one is a horse femur."

"Okay, you better unpack that one," grumbled the man.

Holly grabbed a marker and drew two bones on the board. "This is a human femur. This is a horse. Obviously the equine is larger, but I'm thinking the top of the bone. See the shape? That would work. It fits the shapes on at least three of the weapons. And the irregularity would account for the inconsistencies."

"You can just ... You can see that in your head, just by thinking about it?" John sounded impressed.

"Generally," admitted Holly. "I see ..." She waved her hand by her head. "Science I can see."

The detective grinned. "Fucking amazing. Okay. So we have a group of crazy, horse leg wielding, head cracking, nutjobs?"

Holly nodded. "It's possible that they sawed the leg in half, making two weapons. Smaller and easier to hide."

"You have four. Maybe expand the search to horses?"

"Or try and use the 3D scanners to make a model. Maybe it's degraded over time. I mean, it's bone." Holly closed her eyes and visualized how the bone might wear down. You could cure it and strengthen it, but it would still become brittle over time. How long could it last? What might you add to bone to make it last with strength? Would that leave trace on the heads and the wounds?

She almost didn't notice John was talking. "Hey, I don't mind the zone out, science lady. But. How about I expand the search and you look for whatever you were spinning up in your head? And... Maybe you have an arson specialist I can pester?"

"Wanda." She almost laughed at John's expression. Everyone except Gail had been hit on by Wanda. Discretion was not the woman's watchword, though she did take no for an answer... And she was justifiably nervous around Gail still. "Come on, she's great at it. And she'll be fresh eyes."

A grumbling John accepted this information and headed out. Holly had already tasked Wanda with the arson, and she had no more open cases on her own docket, which meant she could play with this case. Horse bones. Preserving bones. A long forgotten course in taxidermy came to mind, and Holly pulled up the new texts and read through most of it before lunch.

She was still mired in the technical details, trying to figure out what common trace to look for while still having the computer compare and contrast evidence from dozens of cases, by the time she went home. Two days of being sucked into science had gotten her rather far, but she knew she'd need to unstick herself soon. Maybe Vivian would want to go for a run in the morning, or even when she got home.

But it was Gail's car in the garage, not Vivian's motorcycle, when Holly arrived home that night. And it was Gail who had out the yoga mat in the spacious living room. For a moment, Holly just watched her wife slowly contort herself into just her hands, her legs straightened out to the side. It was impressive, and it made Holly happy that she'd given in to Gail's mid-life-crisis to knock the wall out between the living room and the great room.

Her delight was short lived as she realized the only reason Gail would be doing yoga to the point that she didn't notice Holly was that Gail was having a bad day. Quietly, Holly put her bag on the stairs and went to the kitchen. There was no cooking or baking going on. That was interesting. Holly had gotten pretty good at gauging Gail's moods based on what she cooked. Yoga and no food meant she was trying to quiet thoughts in the back of her head that were beyond unpleasant. It was either fear or anger.

Food needed to be bright and fresh, Holly decided, and she dug out tempeh and vegetables. Before she started the rice, she texted Vivian to let her know that Gail was having a bad day. Her daughter replied quickly, saying she was out with Jenny and Lara, and they're were going to get dinner.

It was nice that Vivian was trying to get out more. The girl spent way too much time inside her head, brooding. But that was not something Holly could fix for her daughter. For her wife, on the other hand, Holly could do something about. Not that Gail's problems were simpler or less complex, but Gail was able to and willing to talk to Holly about them which made them more solvable.

"I'm not a puzzle," said Gail.

Holly turned to look. Gail was in downward facing dog. "You are not," she agreed. "Want to talk about it?"

Grunting, Gail shifted to balancing on one hand and foot. "Party's at the Fairmount. Apparently there were only four hotels suitable to my mother."

Mother. Not mom. "What were the other three?"

"Ritz-Carlton, Four Seasons, Archer."

One of those didn't line up right in her head. "Didn't we stay at the Fairmount before?"

"Yeah, for Vanessa's wedding. Eli's younger daughter."

Holly smiled. "Right! And Elaine put us up at the Ritz for our tenth. And ... You know, I suddenly feel over privileged."

"I knew you married me for my money." But Gail sounded flat as she spoke. She wasn't really into the joking.

Sometimes Holly wished she had Gail's knack for reading people, between the lines. It was a Peck skill she knew Gail hated, to the point that she didn't consciously use it on people outside of interrogation. Still, after fifteen years as a detective, some things were second nature to her. Holly didn't read people well. She never had and never would.

She did read Gail well. After two decades, it was second nature to pick up the cues.

Gail still couldn't ride in taxis. She was prone to stress 'panic' attacks if she threw off her schedule too much. Especially her sleep schedule. Gail needed more sleep than she ever got. The flashes of anger had faded away over time. It had been years since the last one, and that had been after Elaine's heart attack. The Peck matriarch hadn't told anyone about it, so the call from one of Holly's friends had terrified them all.

Pursing her lips, Holly asked, "What happened at the Archer?"

Her wife was quiet for a while. Then she stood up straight, hands high over her head. "That's where I went undercover."

Oh. Oh. "Did Elaine know?"

"Maybe. Probably." With a half sneer, Gail added, "She forgot if she ever knew."

And Elaine Peck knew everything about her children and she never forgot anything. "I see." Holly stirred the vegetables. "Do you want to put rice in bowls?"

"Yeah." Gail did a final Sun Salutation and then resumed her petulant slouch. She wiped off her yoga mat and propped it up to dry. Finally she got out bowls. "Table?"

"If you like." Holly sampled a bit of tempeh and sighed happily. "Damn, I'm good at this dish."

With a soft puff of laughter, Gail put the rice bowls down and went to set the table. "You're insane, Holly. You know that, right?"

Holly smiled. She'd made Gail laugh a little. It wouldn't be too bad.


When a morning started with both of her mothers wanting to go running, Vivian had an indication that it had been a bad night. Holly's text not withstanding, it wasn't very abnormal for Gail to have a bad day at work. Still, neither mother said anything about it, so Vivian changed her run to a shorter route that they'd all enjoy. That also meant breakfast with her moms, which was always good, and then Gail absently asked if Vivian wanted a ride.

She took the hint.

"Is it going to be weird," asked Vivian as she got in the car. "Having Traci work for you?"

"Technically Homicide works for me." Gail smiled a little though. The smile had been rare since the night before. "It'll be interesting."

"Interesting like having me on patrol?"

"Interesting like when I get to work cases with Holly. But she needs to solve that burnt kid first." The blonde gave Vivian a meaningful look.

Ah and that was patrol's job. "I pounded pavement all day yesterday. His roommate thought he'd gone to Prince Edward Island."

Gail made a face. "That is not a hotspot for spring break."

"His girlfriend lives there, or so he said." Vivian grinned.

Her mother frowned. "A Canadian lied about having a girlfriend in Canada?"

Vivian beamed. "Right? So me and Jenny are waiting on the warrant to get his GPS data to track where he went. Traci said she should have it by today." That did not seem to surprise or concern Gail. At first, Vivian had found it strange to not get the warrant for everything (they'd had the phone calls) but apparently a data warrant meant different things, since it could give you email access and that was complicated.

"I don't envy you that. Following some guy's footsteps all day? In cotton poly?"

"You miss the joy of having your clothes picked out for you every day."

Gail flipped her off. "Make detective and I'm gonna make you go shopping with Elaine."

"Empty threat. Elaine's great at clothes shopping. Better than you."

"Hey!" Gail laughed. "I love shopping."

"For you, sure. Ask Mom. Shopping for anyone else with you? Nightmare." Reaching over, Gail slugged her shoulder. They were still laughing when they got to the station. Vivian texted Holly to let her know Gail was in a better mood and changed into her uniform before getting into the drudgery of the day.

Since Traci had the warrant, they had a map, complete with timestamps. She displayed the map up on the wall for everyone at parade. "So our Mr. Dale Taft. Lied to his parents about his plans, said he was going to Cancun. Told his roommate he was going to meet his girl on Prince Edward Island. The name for the girl is fake, but the roommate said Dale was always calling and texting. We got a number from his phone, goes to a burner."

Jenny held up her hand. "Drugs?"

But Christian had another take. "My fake cyber girlfriend."

Vivian decided she liked Christian's idea the best, but it wasn't her call. "Did he leave the city much?"

"Nope. Home and school and home." Traci handed over maps. "Aronson and Peck, you get his morning. Hanford and Fuller, you get his afternoon. Volk, you get to help find his phone based on the information from his evening."

Lara looked worried. "Help?"

"Sgt. McNally has called in some old friends from K-9."

Stifling a laugh, Vivian bent her head down and read the map. As she did, Rich spoke up. "How do we know where he was if we don't have his phone? And how do we not have the phone?"

Traci tutted. "Phone wasn't on him when he was found, and it's turned off. But all his historical data, including the stuff from his watch, told us his day. Wonderful tracking devices, your phones. Unless you put them in secure mode. Which he did as of two months ago."

Vivian glanced up and smiled sheepishly. She'd once accidentally driven Gail sick with worry because messing with privacy settings and a jail broken app not only blocked her phone from being tracked but it had also fried the memory, resulting in a dead phone and no way to answer a call from Holly. "So noted, ma'am," was all Vivian said, however.

The detective smirked. "We have the last location on the phone. We've already searched. Now it's time to sniff it out. You know what to do."

Andy, who had been silent up until now, grinned back. "Serve. Protect. Find some evidence."

And so Vivian and Jenny were walking from Dale's shitty apartment to his coffee shop. "Who the hell doesn't make their own coffee in the morning?" Vivian tugged at her coat. She was too hot in it and too cold out of it. Stupid spring.

"You don't go out to coffee shops?"

"Sure, but not every day."

Jenny eyed her. "You think this is every day?"

Vivian nodded. "Roommate said every day Dale went to get coffee at the same time. Except weekends, when he went earlier."

"Well... Maybe his secret lover is there?" Jenny leered at Vivian, making her laugh. "I wonder if there really is a girl. Or a guy. But why would they use a burner phone?"

That was a good question. "Lots of reasons. Controlling parents or, worse, a spouse." Vivian frowned a little. Her birth mother had never had a cell phone, that she could recall at least. "You can buy them with cash only. I'm sure they already tracked the number to a phone and then to the seller."

Her partner looked surprised. "Do you always think about that stuff?"

"At work, sure. It's a date killer, though."

Jenny laughed. "Really? You do shit like that on dates?"

"I try not to!" Vivian sighed and went into the coffee shop, Jenny laughing behind her.

They showed the photo of Dale to the barista, who didn't know him, and asked about the regulars. Apparently the shop was popular and they had a lot of turnover with clientele. The manager was sure they had regulars, but the small size of the shop did not lean to having people hang out a lot.

The coffee was pretty phenomenal though, Vivian had to agree. They sipped their coffee as they followed Dale's path. He'd gone to his part time job to get his check. They had nothing bad to say about Dale. A good worker, competent and generally nice. He'd shown up hungover once or twice, but he was in college.

After that, he spent an hour outside a business.

"Well this doesn't make sense," muttered Jenny, looking at the real estate firm. They'd checked and double checked the location. The GPS firmly stated he was outside the building.

"It's not a normal place to hang out."

Jenny looked up. "We could ask to see the security tapes?"

"Go for it. I'm going to check around here and see if I can figure out why he'd hang out."

As Jenny went inside, Vivian checked the map. There was room for error with these. Maybe he'd been at one of the other stores. Hopefully Jenny would get some leads on that based on the camera, but in the mean time it was up for Vivian to get the right lay of the land. A donut shop, a magazine stand, a shoe store, and a real estate firm. Across the street was a ubiquitous Starbucks, a tall office building with a wide variety of stores, a book store, and an untenanted storefront.

Vivian pursed her lips and checked the information she had from the phone. "What I wouldn't give to have his ... Oh." Vivian touched her radio. No. Her phone. She dialed the number.

"You better have a good reason," said Traci by way of greeting.

"Detective. Do we know it Taft used any of those social media things like Travlr?"

Traci was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. Questable. You think his check in points would show more information?"

"The geo point isn't really clear, and I know he had no tracking on from Apple but ... Is his profile public?"

"It is. Sending you the details now. You know, kid. For someone who hates social media as much as you and Gail do, you know a lot."

Vivian grinned. "Know thy enemy is a Peck commandment."

Traci laughed. "Fair enough. And good idea, Peck. If you have any more ideas, call me."

"Thank you, ma'am. Will do."

Checking her text messages, Vivian saw the link to Dale's profile. To think people were still wondering why she avoided social media... Pulling up Dale's profile, she saw check-ins at the coffee shop and, surprise, right here. The real estate agency.

"What the actual fuck?" Vivian frowned and tapped on the agency, reading its reviews. There was an incredible amount of check-ins, mostly by teenagers and college students. Why would they be going to a real estate office? Then she read the reviews.


"Free wifi? The kids were all going there for the free wifi?" Gail paused with her coffee halfway to her mouth.

Traci and Vivian were grinning. The detective Peck spoke for them both. "I didn't even need a warrant for the access logs. They were so mad, they just let us check things."

The uniformed Peck carried it on. "Turns out a lot of kids had been siphoning the fast Internet off them for months. They did their business on a VPN, so that was secure, but everything else was open wifi. And Dale and his mystery 'girlfriend' were stealing the kids' identities." Vivian made air quotes around 'girlfriend.'

Gail blinked. "You found the girlfriend!"

"Secretary at the real estate firm." Traci grinned. "Also not a girlfriend."

Vivian cut in. "Well she is a girlfriend. Just not his."

Traci nodded at Vivian. "Her boyfriend thought the same thing the rest of us did. Except with the added benefit of cheating."

"Whoops. Boyfriend did it?"

"Confessed as soon as the rookies opened the door." Traci patted Vivian's shoulder. "Just held his hands out."

Gail snorted. "Criminals are idiots. Was he a vet tech?" As soon as Vivian looked offended, Gail laughed. "She's upset I'm psychic."

Shaking her head, Traci tossed the folder onto Gail's desk. "She's not psychic, little Peck. She's experienced."

"Oh," said Vivian knowingly. "She's old."

"Out!" Gail pointed at her door. "I have a meeting at five. I'll pick you up at the Penny?" Vivian saluted and grinned as she followed Traci out.

Her kid was a hoot. Gail smiled and picked up the folder, skimming the last notes. The horse tranquilizer was from the boyfriend's work. The fire was unrelated. That part bothered her. She walked around her desk to her computer and opened Shay's report. For as much crap as she gave her cousin (three years younger than Gail, making her still the oldest Peck in service to their city as soon as Steve did retire), Gail knew Shay would have made a brilliant detective.

The report brought up a handful of small cases through the city. Only a few major ones, and even then they felt like an accident. But to Gail, who had faced multiple serial killers and gangs and all kinds of losers, it felt like the beginning of escalation. It felt like the start of something.

Since she had Traci's digital report already, Gail gave Shay access to it and sent her the case number. The digitization of cases made communication so much easier. Even working with other countries was so much faster now. Gail had a special ID and a two factor code that she could use to log into the FBI and CIA. Not that she ever wanted to. The CIA gave her the creeps.

Her cousin pinged her back right away, saying just one word 'fuck.' Yeah, Shay had become Gail's favorite Peck cousin in the last decade. They'd have to dig deeper but, for now, it was enough to have the fireman keeping tabs on the case. Since they would see it first, Gail made sure to give Shay as much information as she could without having to justify it to the commish. He was annoying, a real red tape asshole.

Gail threw the map up on her wall and put the fire points as markers for an overlay in red. Then she put, in blue, the locations that Shay suspected would be next. In purple was the dead Dale Taft.

"Mr. Taft. Why were you on fire?"

Actually, why was that location on fire? That made less sense. Assuming that Taft was in the wrong place at the wrong time, which the boyfriend implied, why was the fire there? Gail rubbed her lower lip. They'd found a small incendiary device in the homeless man's belongings. The arson team, which fell under or with ETF (depending on your point of view) was still working on that.

Complex cases with unknown motives were always tiring. She sighed and added Sue to new case notes as well. It wasn't enough data to come to a meaningful conclusion yet. Lacing her hands behind her head, Gail leaned back as far as her chair would go and stared at the data, hoping it would magically come to some beautiful conclusion.

Of course it didn't. By the time she went to her late afternoon meeting with the big wigs about her upcoming reorg, she was no further along than she'd been that afternoon. To her surprise, as she went to her car with the intent of picking up Vivian from the Penny, the patrol officer was sitting on the bumper reading from her iPad.

"Aren't I picking you up?"

"Eh, C was there, picking up chicks. I didn't want to screw his game."

Gail shook her head. "You're nice. You must have gotten that from Holly."

"Sure as hell wasn't you," agreed Vivian, smiling. They piled into the car and Vivian tossed her bag in the back. "How did your muckitymuck meeting go?"

"Eh." Gail paused and grinned, realizing she and Vivian made the same sound of disgruntlement. "The post Peck shuffle is interesting. Bumping Traci makes Frankie the ranking Homicide D for my sectors." Technically Swarek should be top, but he'd been tagged in an SIU case for a violent incident with a perp on his watch, which kicked him down a pay grade. Not to mention he was Swarek and less trusted after his divorce from Andy.

Vivian made a face. "Frankie needs a girlfriend. I can't believe she hit on you and Mom!"

"I hit on your mother."

"You married my mother. Frankie just wants to get laid."

Glancing over, Gail smirked. "Is she threatening to set you up again?" Vivian flipped her off. Everyone was trying to help Vivian with her love life. As one of Vivian's virtual (certainly her least virtuous) aunts, Frankie could be a little more heavy handed than the rest. "You know Lisa and Frankie went out for a while."

Vivian grinned. "Yeah, BT told me. Too much bitch factor, though."

"Truth. So why does Frankie need a girl, Monkey?"

"Because she'll drive all your Ds insane, pick fights with Chloe who I swear she has a crush on, and swagger all over like Jagger unless she gets laid regularly."

Gail made a noise and sighed. The kid was right. "Who would have thought the running of departments would depend on Anderson's sex life?"

Her daughter laughed. "Maybe you should introduce her to Wanda?"

"Ew. And they don't get along. Wanda said Franks was too egotistical."

"She is." Vivian smiled. "Luck?"

"Jen? No way, she's in the same department and division. Breakups like that are messy enough."

Now Vivian made a noise. "Fine. Be smart."

Gail grinned. "Impossible to be any other way, kiddo." She pulled up to the house. "Okay. Get Frankie Anderson a girl before promoting her. That gives me ... Until August."

"Why is Steve waiting?"

"The retirement package is better if he makes it to August is all."

Vivian snorted. "It's not like we're hurting for money, Mom."

"Today, no. But never think that will last forever, Viv."

Her daughter's face was thoughtful as she got out of the car. "Is the future always so uncertain?"

"Pretty much." Gail slung an arm around Vivian's shoulder. "But that's why you keep family around." Vivian sighed and leaned in for a brief moment. "Come on. Let's get Holly to help us find a girl for Frankie."


And so ends episode one.

We're back on every-other-Tuesday schedules. See you in two! Leave reviews and let me know how you're liking things. If the ratings go down, there can always be rewrites.