02.04 - Hearts and Sparks

Now it's time for a little romance and a little undercover work. Slightly lighter fare than last chapter.

It's time for our rookies to enjoy the least comfortable undercover role. No, not the scavenger hunt. It's time for hookers.


Gail coughed as she read Chloe's list. "Really? I woulda picked Fuller."

"He's not clean cut enough to sell. Too hearty and wholesome."

"That worked for Chris."

"Sure, but Chris was more ... I don't know. There was something about him that made you believe he would do drugs."

Gail sighed. "That would be because he got hooked on coke. Twice." Chloe startled, clearly not expecting that little revelation. At this point in all their lives, it hardly mattered to keep the secret. Chris died clean. "Dov can tell you about it."

The other detective nodded. "Well. That's that. I think Hanford will be fine." Gail nodded her acceptance. "And just so we're clear, I'm not sold on young Peck either. She looks too athletic."

That was frustrating. Gail sighed, trying to think of how to keep her daughter on the list, but was failing. "Too healthy and honest. Love her, but yeah."

Chloe sighed. "You know what sucks is she'd probably be pretty good at it. She wouldn't be stupid."

"You mean Andy." Gail smirked at the memory and sipped her coffee. Andy had really only been good undercover when Sam or Nick was her partner. Gail expected her partners to hold their own. Andy needed a hand back then.

"I mean Wes. He got in a car with someone."

Gail nearly laughed her coffee out her nose and had to grab kleenex. "Are you shitting me? That's UC 101! No touching, no cars!" She blew her nose. "Jesus, why did you marry him?"

Rolling her eyes, Chloe turned the page. "Desperation and tequila."

"Ahhhh, right. A potent mix." They both chuckled. "Well. There is the other option. For covers." She arched her eyebrows at Chloe.

After a moment, Chloe looked amused. "You think she can do it?"

"I think she can better than Hanford, and no I'm not just saying it because she's my kid."

The tiny redhead sighed. "Your wife will either kill me or laugh so hard she cries."

Gail smirked. "From my perspective, it's a win win."

"You, Gail Peck, are a total shit." Chloe ran a hand through her hair. "Do we tell them about all of it?"

"No, we don't." Gail tabbed through the report. "They're still rooks. They work best when you give them the information for what they can do."

Chloe quirked a smile. "Is that what Oliver taught you?"

"Noelle, but close enough. The problem with them is they can be ... They can be innovative in the wrong way." Gail sipped her coffee. "McNally."

Even Chloe found the humor there. "She will never live that story down. Not once."

"Nope. We tell it at the academy, names changed. She also gets her Duncan fuck-up story. Of course, so does he. I'm the cautionary tale about being kidnapped."

Chloe, who had not known her then, just looked sad. "I'm how to get hated by an entire division."

In a way, that was why Gail liked Chloe as much as she did. There was no attempt to ignore the mistakes they made. Chloe didn't treat her differently for being held hostage. This was just the Gail that Chloe knew, and she accepted Gail for what she was.

"I don't think everyone here hates you. Yet," said Gail, flippantly.

With a smirk, Chloe flipped her off. "You're jealous."

"Of you and dork king? Hah!"

"True, you did marry the nerd queen." Chloe was grinning. "And you two raised a pretty amazing kid. I'll see if I can get her in, but she's got to play it right. She does anything like that hero shit she pulled in high school..." Trailing off, Chloe was incredibly serious.

Gail winced. "God. I don't know where she got that." Vivian had done it in college as well and Gail had tried her best to steer the girl away from it. But if someone dropped Vivian in front of downtrodden people in pain, then she wanted to save them. Protect them. Hurt the other guys enough to keep them away.

"I don't think it's because of you and your bitter, jaded, attack the the world view, if that helps."

It did. A little. "Well. We all have our problems. I mean, why the hell are you a cop?"

"I like helping people," said Chloe, wistfully. "And I always thought uncle Frank was so cool and nice and ..." She sighed. "Even after I got shot, my parents never asked me to stop. They get it. The sacrifice."

Yeah. Gail understood that. "Well. Can I say I'm ... I'm glad you got the clot thing fixed?" Chloe's smile was like a million watt sun. It was brilliant and warmed even Gail's crusty heart. Gail rolled her eyes. "You know what, I take it back, Chloe. Forget it, I wish that stupid clot had killed you."

But she knew Chloe knew the Gail under the venom and bite. They had been friends for two decades now. "Thank you for introducing me to your cousin."

Her cousin the thoracic surgeon. "I notice you're not thanking me for introducing you to Lisa." Lisa had cleaned up the scar tissue.

Now Chloe rolled her eyes. "Gail, no one in their right mind would thank anyone, not even Holly, for introducing them to Lisa."

Gail shrugged, not arguing the sentiment. "You've got John back up to speed on the arsons?" While John was out for a few weeks on bereavement, Chloe had picked up his serial arson case. It wasn't her bailiwick but John was family. Without even being asked, Chloe just stepped up and helped out.

"Yup! He left me the undercover plan and is talking to Captain Peck... That's weird, by the way. Captain?"

"I made Inspector first," drawled Gail, amused. There was a shift to Chloe's face. Aha! "You applying?"

The tiny woman nodded. "Talked it over with Dov. It takes me off the streets for good. Maybe it'll help our Chris."

Gail nodded back. Chris had been nothing but problematic. While Vivian had been perfectly willing to pick him up and talk to Chris, she had flat out refused to tell any of them what was going on. "He's not using," Gail said softly. That had to be the truth. Vivian would have said something.

"I know. But something's going on. Maybe I should have been around more. Not haring off undercover every few months." Chloe sighed, despondent.

"True, but you wouldn't be a member of the order if you weren't so damn good at that."

Chloe laughed. "Wow. Two compliments from Gail Peck in one day? Am I gonna die now?"

"Technically the first wasn't a compliment," snarled Gail, but she grinned. "Look. Just ask Viv if she thinks it'll help. She's incurably honest. I think she got that from Holly."

Nodding, Chloe stood up. "After I ask her to pull off a cover story that is equally hilarious and offensive." She shook her head. "Remind me why I work with you?"

"Because I'm awesome and a fucking success story," Gail said, beaming dangerously.

Chloe's laugh trailed her out the door.


Of course Jenny was excited. "This shift is gonna rock!" She bounced on her feet. "We get to work a major op! Undercover!"

Vivian checked her uniform. "Practicing the cover story already, Jenny? You're supposed to be pretend druggies."

Lara laughed at them both. "Is this even an op? A John sweep?"

The buoyant mood could not be denied and Jenny threw her arms around Vivian and Lara's shoulders as they walked out to the hall. "Is it an operation? Yes, it is. Will we be dressed in uniform? No, we will not."

"No, you get to be dressed like hookers," groaned Vivian.

"We," said Lara, happily.

"You will. No way will I get to do this."

"What?" Jenny was stunned. "Why not?"

With a deep sigh, Vivian wriggled free and stood in front of her classmates, arms akimbo. "Look at me. I'm over six feet tall, I look like a fucking jock, I've got short hair, and I pretty much scream cop. Or lumberjane. I don't look like a coked out hooker who needs a little dough."

Her friends studied her for a while. "She has a point," said Lara, sadly.

"She does. Crap. So what will you end up doing?"

"Sitting in the van with the cover team. I won't even get to be backup." It didn't matter that Gail had mentioned her name was on the list. The reality was, Peck or not, she'd not be anyone's pick for a hooker. Vivian shoved her hands into her pockets and sighed, walking into Parade.

The room was filled promptly, only Vivian slouching deeply in her seat. Andy, in her starched white shirt, wrinkled her nose. "Who the hell is wearing the sex cologne?" She squinted at the room. "Desmond, for fuck's sake, shower. Again."

Most everyone laughed. Chloe smiled. "Okay! You kids know what today is." She tapped the wall and the underpass showed up on a map. "The hookers will be here and here. Rent boys here. The cover team will be here, by the mini mart. We will have coffee for you when your covers are blown. Backup will be also undercover."

Andy picked up the explanations. "We can't wire you, so you'll have earpieces. We can talk to you, you can't talk to us. It's a secure band, so we will keep the chatter to a minimum. You'll each have a different signal, don't get confused." Andy paused and tipped her head to Chloe, grinning.

"We'll be using Volk, Hanford, Peck, and Aronson." What the fuck? Vivian stared and Chloe smirked right back at her. "Peck, run the drill."

Was this a joke? They were asking her to go undercover? She didn't look the part! Gail did. Andy did... Well. Mostly. Andy looked too clean cut. She'd seen the photos from Noelle. When Chloe coughed, Vivian sat up straight. "Well, we need the John to offer money for a sex-related act. In that moment he, or she, is arrestable, so we give the signal, cover team moves in and makes the collar."

"Good," nodded Chloe. "Peck and Hanford, you're with me. Volk and Aronson, you're with Santiago. Remember. Do not let anyone touch you. Do not get in any vehicle. Do not go anywhere your cover team can't see you. And no matter what happens, you stick to your story. Let's go."

Vivian, confused, got up and followed Rich and Chloe. "Ma'am, me?"

"Yes, you, Peck. You're both druggies."

Rich eyed Vivian. "But ... Er. Ma'am. If I'm a rent boy-"

"Hanford, zip it. Here's your outfit." Chloe handed him a bag. "There are options. Pick what fits. You too, Peck." Reflexively, she took the bag. "The necklines are non-negotiable. Change. Meet me back here in thirty."

"What the hell, Viv?" He gaped at her.

Vivian shared a look with Rich. "I have no fucking idea..."

"Dude, it's UC. Christian was livid he can't do it."

"He doesn't look slutty enough," Vivian said, a little confused. She ignored his protests and went back to the locker room. Jenny was zipping up thigh high boots. Lara had on torn jeans.

"What I don't get is what sex acts am I supposed to offer in pants?" Lara looked at her jeans and frowned.

Vivian sighed. "Blow jobs. Hand jobs. Lots of stuff doesn't involve penis and vagina."

Jenny chuckled. "She's got you there, Lara." The shortest of the three, Jenny had on a mini skirt and a tight tank. "What do you think? Do I look more desperate in this or the blue?" She held up a blue crop top.

Unzipping her bag, Vivian studied the choices. "The blue is more desperate. The tank is more professional. Harder to stain."

Both her friends made disgusted faces. "Do you spend family dinners talking about this shit?" Jenny threw the blue shirt back in her bag.

Vivian smirked. "No, Holly outlawed cop-talk at the table when I was eight." She turned to her potential outfits and stared. "What the actual fuck..." The clothes were definitely hooker wear. But they were not the sort that would make her look less butch.

"Uh. You're gonna look real ... " Lara stopped.

"Mannish," offered Jenny.

The lightbulb went on for all three of them at once, or near enough as to make no difference. "Oh," muttered Vivian. A female hooker who looked mannish. "Christ. Well that is going to offend someone."

"Uh, news flash, Viv. We're pretending to be desperate, drug addicted, women who sell their bodies. We're already pretty fucking offensive to anyone's family values."

With a sigh, Vivian pulled off her uniform shirt. Before the appointed half hour, she was in the hall where Chloe was waiting and listening to Christian argue he'd be a better rent boy. Her roommate pointed as soon as Vivian walked in. "Look! Viv, if you had to bang one of us, pay us for sexual favors, who would you pick?"

"You guys forget I'm queer or something?" She frowned and held out her wig. "Someone help me with this?"

"It's a simple question, Peck," laughed Chloe, who had apparently heard enough. "Who's the better rentboy? Hanford or Fuller?"

Vivian sighed. A year ago she'd have said Christian. Today's answer was different. "Rich is. You're too fit in the wrong way, C."

Christian scowled. "Oh like you're any better! What hooker looks like you?" He stopped and eyed her up and down. The dress was too tight in a couple places, it actually emphasized her shoulders, and the shoes were interesting, to say the least. "Aren't you supposed to be playing down the butch? Or are we looking for Janes and Johns?"

"Don't be a dick, C," snarled Vivian.

Taking the wig, Chloe pointed Vivian at a chair. "She looks fine. She'll be posted with Hanford on the other side of the overpass."

She stayed still as Chloe pinned the wig into place. "But, ma'am, that wig looks hella fake." Christian was clearly not getting it.

Chloe ignored him. "Do you want help with the voice?"

"No, ma'am," replied Vivian, resignedly. "You know, this really is all kinds of offensive. If this was a movie-"

"It's not, Peck. And frankly we don't have anyone else at Fifteen who fits the bill as well as you. Brooke already said you'd do." Chloe clapped her shoulders. "Lemme hear it."

She nodded. So that was that. Vivian inhaled deeply and exhaled, relaxing her shoulders. "Hello, officer," she said in her best drag queen voice. It really was offensive on so, so many levels.

It was also worth it to see Christian's eyes widen. "Oh my god."

"Good. You guys buy that?" Both men nodded. "Congrats, you are a transsexual rentboy, Peck."

Vivian sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Somehow she just knew that this was all Gail's fault.


The photo was equal parts horrifying and hilarious. Her daughter stood well over six feet tall in the boots. She looked a little scraggly in less than flattering makeup, a cheap dress, and a wig. Holly snickered a laugh and texted Gail back.

I want photos of hooker Gail.

Her wife replied with a case number which Holly promptly tapped in to her laptop. There was Gail, rookie, not even cut loose, with short blonde hair (not as short as she wore it now), trashy makeup, and sloppy clothes. She stood next to Andy McNally, both looking rather skeevy and slutty and untrustworthy. Well. Gail did. Andy looked incredibly awkward and uncomfortable.

You look adorably trashy. When are you coming home?

Ten minutes. I'm at the drug store getting your meds.

Holly swore. She had enough left for the week, but Gail hated when she ran low. So did Holly, and she'd meant to pick her pills up. And totally forgot.

She shoved her laptop, and her brilliant proposal about creating a 3D model of almost an entire femur, based solely on the skull impressions, away and hustled to the kitchen. Dinner should probably be on her. It wasn't going to speed up the approval for funding.

Of course, Holly was still staring at their fridge when Gail got there. "So sad. The great doctor is stumped on dinner."

"Screw you," Holly grumbled. But she leaned into Gail as the blonde took hold of her waist. The warm hands gripped gently, firmly, holding her in place while Gail leaned into Holly's back. "Hi. Not staying out all night, watching our kid?"

"Mm mm," said Gail, kissing Holly's neck. "I have minions. Besides, she'd be self conscious if her mom was watching her try to talk some Johns into offering to pay her for sexual favors."

There was that. "She doesn't really look convincing, you know. She'd make a better dominatrix."

Gail laughed. "I'll remember that for next time. This time, Viv's playing a guy."

Holly stiffened. "What?"

"She's pretending to be a transsexual rentboy."

That took a moment to sink in. "Our daughter is pretending to be a man, pretending to be a woman."

"I know, it's very Victor/Victoria. Salmon, beef, or vegetarian?"

"Beef. Don't change the subject. Having Viv pretend to be a transsexual is really offensive."

Gail sighed and put her forehead on Holly's shoulder. "Holly. Its voluntary. She could say no."

Holly snorted and picked up the beef. "No, she can't. She's a cop. She has a responsibility to do this."

Letting go, Gail leaned on the counter, her expression closed. "Holly. What part is offensive?"

She blinked. "What?"

"To you. What part has your goat. Because dressing up fresh faced rooks as hookers is kinda always offensive. And having some of them pretend to be gay is offensive. Abercrombie is a rentboy, by the way. And yeah, having one pretend to be transgender is offensive and opportunistic and... We're teaching them to lie, to be other people. They have to be able to see the evil and we need to know who can hide with it."

It wasn't something they talked about much. Holly honestly didn't want to know what happened when Gail had been undercover, and that work had ended years ago. Even when it was Gail's job, it was like interrogation. Gail didn't want Holly to see the seedy part of the job of a cop. Twenty years, Gail had kept that part of her career, her life, as far away from Holly as possible.

And now maybe it was time to change that unspoken policy.

Holly slid the meat over. "It bothers me because it's taking advantage of a situation and a disenfranchised group of people. And thirty years ago, it was playing lesbian and ... I don't like my life being someone's play acting."

Her wife nodded. "Okay. I get that. But that isn't what this is at all." Gail tossed the meat into a bowl and ran hot water. "We are taking advantage of the reality of the world. The world sucks, parents kick gay kids out, they have no money and no means and they turn to sex because it's easy. We can't stop that." Gail's voice softened. "That's what could have happened, Holly. To Viv."

Scowling, Holly got out some spices for the meat. "No. You don't play that one, Gail. This has nothing to do with protecting our kid."

"No. It doesn't. But she has to know that." Gail shrugged. "Look, this is her job. She has to learn to be someone else. That's what we do. We stop being Gail the wife. We have to be Gail the car thief, or the anti-royalist, or the hooker... Or the call girl. Because being those things lets us know. How to find out who needs us, who's lying, who's afraid."

It made sense, in a way. It seemed exploitative in many others. "You're using her, though. Because of all your rookies, she knows exactly what the worst is."

Gail shrugged again. "Yeah. So does Carrie over in ThirtyTwo. And there's a guy down at Eight. They're doing the same thing, more or less. And they know why we picked them for that."

Holly eyed her wife. "Don't you feel bad?"

"What? Using kids as bait? Making them see the seedy underbelly of Toronto? Introducing them to the pain? Yes and no. Cumin."

"I was thinking the H&P, for burgers. And don't you feel bad about this? It's creepy."

"That works." Gail pulled out the sauce and buns. "Okay. Yes it makes me feel bad. I hate that we're taking advantage of a situation like this. That we can get better results asking kids to pose as transsexuals. But I would rather get the abusive assholes off the streets. Should I light the grill?"

"Only if it stopped raining." Holly watched Gail get the stovetop grill out and marveled for a moment at their ability to transition comfortably between topics. "Okay. So you're exploitative."

Gail rolled her eyes. "That can't possibly be news. I take advantage of people all the time, sweetheart."

Holly smirked. "I meant the institutionalized aspect. Wasn't really expecting that."

"Well. We have to brainwash people. You don't think we come by this naturally." Gail leaned on the counter. "I'm going to lock my gear up, okay?"

"Please. And make a salad when you get back down."

Grumbling about rabbit food, Gail stomped upstairs, leaving Holly to think. If the situation was different, say hiring a straight actor to play gay or a cisgendered one to play trans, Holly would have been irate. She was often loudly vocal about that sort of thing. So was Vivian, who hated television for betraying her even since she was a pre-teen. But that was not at all the same as this.

This was work. This was the dirty work of being a cop. Worse than murder was watching people you couldn't save walk away. Worse than death was life and it's stark reality. Surviving came at a cost, a price, and they were trying to scrub the green and innocence off the rookies. Force them to survive.

Holly sighed and found a bag of Gail's cheese puffs, crumbling them up in place of breadcrumbs. "Gail! How come Oliver is so innocent still?"

"He's blessed," Gail said from the stairs. "Celery says his soul is immutable or something blah blah hippy bullshit. I don't know."

"Glad to see you're still listening."

Gail smirked and sniffed the bowl, going to the spice cabinet again. "He was bribed once. Oliver. Him and Steve."

"What?" Holly would have dropped the food she held, were it not in the bowl.

"Yeah, his old house, the one Zoe has. Irish mob fixed his roof." Gail was so laconic about it, it was stunning. She went on as she spiced the meat. "Ollie was a baby. A rookie. It was before they swapped him to Fifteen and he worked under Mom. Him and Uncle Al were at TwentySeven then. Al asked him to change the prints on file for a tweaker. Ollie did it. Didn't think twice, because hey, Al's on the up and up."

Holly felt a little ill. "But..."

"Nah, it was all above board. Al was guns and gangs. He was building a rapport with the mob to take 'em down. Didn't happen till I was seventeen though. So that was years, right? Ollie never asked. Not once." Gail looked up. "Oliver trusts beyond reason. Got him results like nobody else."

But that didn't help Holly feel better. "And Steve?"

"Yeah, same kinda thing. Obviously not his roof. Steve's always been an apartment guy. But it's this thing we do, these tests. What kind of cop are you."

Holly studied Gail's face as her wife started making the salad. "What was your test?"

Gail shook her head. "I took the fall for a guy who brought a gun into lockup. Mom stole credit for a perp from my dad. We test folks in different ways."

Stepping away from the counter, Holly sighed. "I feel positively sick. I think I was happier not knowing."

Her wife sighed. "My point, Holly. We have to do things that are questionable."

"So our child pretending to be an MTF is a drop in the bucket?"

"Yes, but it's also for a good reason. Get the sickos who prey on those kids off the street. Slip some cards to the kids. Maybe get them some help."

Holly shook her head and washed her hands. "I'm going to think about this."

"Sure." Gail took the patties and started to cook them up. "We still cook like Viv's here," she said abruptly. "I know you all call me a garbage pail, but the kid eats!"

She stared at Gail for a moment and then laughed. "We're watching the basketball game tonight, Peck."

"Sure." And Gail smiled at her. Holly swatted Gail's ass and leaned back to watch her wife cook.

Nothing Gail had said changed Holly's viewpoint on her wife. Gail was still the same Gail. Loyal and moral and reliable. It maybe changed how Holly thought about police in general. But it wasn't something to be answered in a day. That was okay. She had all the time in the world with Gail to sort it all out.


"Seventeen for the first night isn't bad," said Gail, studying the board.

Nick smirked. "I never did this. I feel cheated somehow."

As deadpan as possible, Gail said, "If we need a bear, I'll make sure to call you."

Beside them, John snorted. "No fire, though. Damn." That was his case, the fires. "Can you move 'em to the other spot? By the schools?"

Gail nodded. "That was the plan. I think they should switch up the pairs. Volk and Hanford by the library there. Aronson and Peck right by the park. There's good crossover there."

"That works for me." John sipped his coffee. "You checked the stats for how each ... Ah. Each kind of hookers are popular in each area?"

While Gail scoffed, Nick was a little astonished. "Do you still memorize that shit?"

"Not a choice, Collins." She sighed. "And yes." Gail scratched the back of her head. "When did Andy get in last night?"

"Just before I left for shift."

It was still too soon to call her or Chloe. Gail frowned and pulled out her phone, emailing them both about her suggestions and the reasonings. "Well. You're in charge of the day shift, Collins. Don't fuck up."

Nick looked a little queasy. He wasn't the leader. He'd never been a leader, never wanted to be one. He was a good soldier, a good man in a crisis, and someone who took orders well. Never once had Nick been a good leader. He knew it. But like Gail and Andy, he was getting up there in years. While Andy had spent the last dozen years trying her hand in almost every department, Nick had been stalwart and dependable as a TO.

Even though Gail felt the job suited him, she knew it was time for Nick to step up and see if he could be more than just the one thing. Not to mention it was partly her fault he was a cop. There was some guilt and responsibility in there for her. Then again, he remained in uniform because he felt it was the only thing that kept him in check properly.

John patted his shoulder. "You did fine at Parade."

"Is it wrong to be a patrol cop all my life?" Nick looked worried and doubtful.

Shaking her head, Gail tossed back the last of her coffee. "Not if its what you want, Nicholas. Don't settle."

She left the boys on that cautionary note, Nick presiding over the sergeants desk for the day, and texted Holly to let her know Vivian had done alright the night before.

One more night as a hooker?

At least.

Gail's own adventure had been cut short by Andy, who as it turned out was more reliable with a partner than without. Gail did better playing pretend alone, which made perfect sense when she reflected on her upbringing. And Vivian... It was too soon to tell. But at least Gail had a small comfort in knowing her kid wouldn't be pretending to be a call girl any time soon. No, Vivian was more likely to go undercover in a girl gang, or a fight club, or something physical.

Maybe that was a part of her own shield. Gail used sarcasm and bite. Vivian had quietly made sure she could protect herself. Still, the kid said she didn't have any memories of her father hitting her, just her mother. It was probably enough to have set up her subconscious.

Not for the first time, Gail wished Vivian's therapist would tell her what the girl talked about in session. But private session was private. They hadn't done a family session, the three of them, since Vivian was a teenager and asked if they could stop. She still went to her own appointments, once a month at least, but what she talked about was her own business, as it should be.

Just as she walked into her office, Gail's desk phone rang. "Peck," she said, tapping the speaker button.

"Hi, Gail. It's Rodney." Not that she hadn't recognized his voice. Gail smiled at the phone. "I found trace of horses and horse gear on the Haan killings. So that's a confirmed lock."

Gail fist pumped the sky silently. "Gravy, Rodney. You are the man."

"You'll like this better. One of the early Cadillac killings matches the same trace. And it fits Holly's timeline."

He was right. Gail liked that a hell of a lot better. Link one in the chain was forged. Well. Link two. Haan was the second killer. "Did you find any on the older killings?"

"Not yet. I don't think I will, just based on degradation of samples. I'm checking the oldest of the Haan cases, though. I want to see if I can find something in them that doesn't fit, and use that to step back to the older cases. Find a thread."

Gail sat down and put her feet up. "I wish I could tell you I've made any similar headway," she sighed.

"Nothing more? Not even with a name?"

"Not even with three names, one alias, and another possible. Pretty much all I know for sure is he liked scooters and killing people."

Rodney sighed. "I wish I could tell you he wanted ones with a specific brand of oil or something."

Laughing, Gail understood. "Instead he just likes blue ones. Awesome. The database on that is ..." She'd been unable to narrow it down. "Oh and whitewall tyres, but that means fuck all."

"Anyone can paint a scooter blue and get whitewalls."

"Exactly. I can't even call and ask if anyone painted a scoot thirty years ago." She'd tired. And been scoffed at. Now she was making her rookie D do that work.

The laugh from Rodney was heartening. "Right. I'll check for paint flecks?"

"Nah, we have the paint information in the reports, weirdly enough. What I need is inspiration."

"Man, I don't envy you, Gail. Good luck. I'll call if I get anything."

"Same here, Rodney. Thanks." She hung up and tapped her keyboard, bringing up the case notes.

This case was not one Gail had ever really put a great deal of thought into. Serial killings were not her forte. She did better with delving into the motives of groups. Why would mobsters do a thing? Why did a group of unrelated people do that? It wasn't until the current year that Holly had identified that the killings were a group and a serial to boot. Suddenly there it was, in Gail's wheelhouse.

She stared at the lists of victims. One survivor, attacked by Haan. Haan had been killed by a leg none Holly was reasonably sure belonged to Bethany Mills. Gail grimaced.

They'd gone to Bethany's funeral, all of them. Pretty much everyone from Fifteen, but also everyone from John's old unit in Missing Persons. Even Vivian had come, in her dress blues for the first time. And now John was back at work. Gail glanced out to the main bullpen, where John and Trujillo were going over notes, probably for the arson.

If Holly had been the victim of a crime, if Holly had died, Gail wasn't sure she'd ever be able to come back to work.

But for John, this was finally closure on questions of thirty some years. He finally knew the answers. Bethany died being exactly the woman he'd fallen in love with. At long last, John was at peace. And weirdly, his threats of retirement were gone. Gail expected Janet to move in with him next. It was as if, finally, the chains that kept him from committing, from saying things were forever, were gone.

She sighed and rubbed her face.

What kept a thing going on forever anyway? Why had she managed to make things work, to finally get it right with Holly, when she'd epically failed with everyone else? Why would someone train another to kill? Who killed Haan and why? Did his death relate to the chain of killings? Were they related? Where was the thread, as Rodney would ask?

And then she stared. When she ordered the deaths by dates, there was overlap. Even with Haan, his killings with the horse femur overlapped his mentor with a tire iron. No, what had John theorized? A crank. But the final death with the crank was a woman. And the next death, via the femur, was an older man.

"No... They kill themselves?"

Gail pulled up the death of Mr. Jamison Rhodes.

"Okay, Mr. Rhodes. Talk to me. How did you die."


The dress was slightly better the second night. More comfortable at least. At least until she had to run.

"Fire!" That was the scream from Crystal, the young hooker they'd 'befriended' that night. She'd run away from home for one reason or another and started hooking to pay the bills. The drugs came later. Vivian had thought she was getting in good when Crystal mentioned a flop house nearby and asked if Viv had a place to stay. It was about the only time that a name like Vivian was useful undercover. It tended to sound fake.

But now Crystal was screaming and running. Vivian caught her by the arms. "Woah, Crystal. What's on fire?"

"The house! It's on fire! We gotta go!"

Holding her firm, Vivian asked, "Is anyone in there?" The pause was telling. She shook Crystal. "Crystal! Who's in there?"

"Dancer and his john!"

Vivian didn't really think about it. She ran, hooker boots and all, right at the fire. "Two people are still in there!" She knew that Chloe and the crew couldn't hear her, but she hoped the shout was loud enough. Vivian skidded a little as she rounded the corner, and drove her shoulder right into the door of the flop house.

Barely a house. A shack. The door flew in as she hit it, and Vivian had a moment where the Holly in her head screamed at her for not checking the door first. It was the Gail in her head who was winning today. If she hadn't felt the heat too much before plowing in then Vivian was sure she wasn't in mortal danger.

The fire did not surge.

Call it dumb luck.

Vivian coughed and covered her mouth, looking around. There was Dancer, cowering, and a man in a suit sans jacket. The latter was not moving.

"Come on! Get the hell out of here!"

Dancer looked up, panicked. "I can't move him!"

Decisions like this were easy. "Leave him! Come on, Dancer!" Vivian held a hand out. The second Dancer took it, she hauled him out. It was getting hot really fast. She was not dressed for this.

"Peck, here!" That was Henderson, one of Chloe's minions.

"There's another guy in there!"

"I got him! Get this guy to the cars."

No time to argue. Vivian dragged Dancer to where Lara had Crystal sitting on the bumper of a cop car. She was babbling. "How the hell can you be cops!?" Crystal stared at Vivian, confused.

Vivian sighed and pulled the wig off. "Well I blew our cover. Dancer, sit. Do we have more blankets?"

One was dumped on her shoulders first. "You did the right thing, Peck. Gonna be a long night, though."

She looked behind her at a familiar face. "Mac, aren't you a little old for night shift?"

MacKenzie Maclean smirked. "I know, right?" The EMT was a little younger than Gail, though not by much. "What the hell are you wearing?"

The two actual hookers were staring. "He- she- ..." Dancer stopped. "I am so fucking confused."

Taking pity, Vivian explained. "She. Officer Peck. Mac, Dancer's on heroin and Crystal's on meth. I know it's ironic. He had a fix two hours ago, but I think anything they're on got adrenalined out of them."

Mac nodded. "I can always count on you for charging into burning buildings and a good recap. Tobias?" The other EMT nodded and sat with the two hookers and a pair of uniformed cops. "Breathe for me."

No point to argue. Vivian let Mac check her lungs. Once cleared, Henderson took her place with Mac. He looked worse for wear. "You cleared Peck?"

Again, Mac nodded. "This one behaves. You follow her lead and I'll fix your arm."

There was a nasty burn on Henderson's arm. He sighed. "You, Peck, you and Volk are going to the station with these guys. Once you've gotten statements, Price wants you back."

"Back?"

"Yeah, the guy never got out. Congrats. We got hookers, drugs, arson, and probably homicide."

Vivian sighed. It was going to be a damn long night.

It was going to be a long day. She wished she could nap, but instead grabbed and shower, changed into her uniform, and pounded back coffee to kick her ass awake enough. She'd never seen the sunrise from this part of the city. Vivian turned to watch the firemen pick through the flophouse and the john's car.

"What the heck are you looking at?" Rich, still dressed like a rentboy, frowned.

"Sunrise. It's kinda pretty." She sipped her coffee. "Why are you still wearing sex cologne?"

"I just finished trying to wheedle info from the other guys." He sighed. "Which would help if we knew his name."

Vivian shook her head. "They only got the fire under control a coffee ago." Her cohort laughed at her description. "They don't know the license plate?"

The man snorted. "I don't know why I'm shocked at their lack of self preservation."

Smirking, Vivian clapped his shoulder. "I'll go ask the firefighters." Technically that was her job. Or as Chloe had pointed out, she was a Peck and her cousin was a firefighter, so she ought to use the Peck nepotism.

"Have fun. I'm gonna go back to the station and de-scent myself."

She tossed back the last of the coffee and walked over to the firefighters. Station 451. Vivian considered the odds. It was Toronto and she was a Peck. It was small. When a tall firefighter without his jacket on eyed Vivian, she blinked. He spoke first, asking, "Peck?"

"Real common in policing. We have one in every Division." She shrugged. "Yes, we're all related. Yes, Captain Peck in your station."

The man looked surprised. "Must be distant... I mean, she's blonde."

"And pale? Yeah." Vivian smiled. "How's the fire sorted?"

Clearly happier to go back to work, the man nodded. "Mostly out. Still smoking in places."

Vivian sighed. "Not safe enough to go in. And ... Did you get the guy out?"

"Crispy as fuck, but the building isn't safe to go in yet and get his ID. You guys have luck on the car?"

"Unless his name really is Tanya, it ain't his."

The man laughed. "No kidding. Well. You know, in this day and age, maybe."

Given Vivian had spent the first half of her night pretending to be a transsexual, yeah. "Glad you guys stopped the fire from spreading. That coulda been a mess for the overpass."

"Ah, no shit. We still gotta have a structural engineer out here."

Vivian made a face that must have been funny, since he laughed. "Man, I just wanna ID."

"You look kinda wiped."

Jerking her chin at the small crowd gathering, she explained. "We were here on a sting op." The crowd wasn't a good thing. Vivian studied them almost absently, looking for anyone suspicious.

"Man, so this was in the middle of your double?"

She nodded. "No time for a nap either." Not that she would have been able to.

He nodded back. "Well, listen, I gotta break in one of the others on the whole dealing with cops thing. You mind if I tap out?"

"My scintillating conversation ain't much?" Vivian kept her voice as flat and boring as possible, and the man laughed. "Yeah, I don't care. You hose monkeys are all the same."

"Donut Hoarder." But he was smiling as he trotted off.

A familiar voice spoke up. "Making friends?"

Her best friend, Christian, held two coffee cups. Vivian tossed her empty coffee into the trash. "C, I swear I will marry you if one of those is for me."

A cup was held out. "No marriage needed. You look beat."

"It was the shoes," she deadpanned.

Christian laughed. "You know you're crazy, running into buildings like that."

"Someone had to. Lara had Crystal."

Rolling his eyes, Christian pointed out the obvious. "Your family is gonna flip."

"Why's that?" The voice was one Vivian knew and she half turned to see the new fireman. Firefighter. The sooty, smiling face was the one she'd seen running and at the club. "Oh..." Jamie McGann trailed off, her eyes wide.

"They're all cops too," said Vivian, thanking every being imaginable that she wasn't a pale Peck. Her skin, tan and ruddy in general, didn't show the blush too much. She hoped. Jamie, equally dark (if not more) looked flustered. Yeah, it showed.

Christian made a noise. "I'm gonna do tape patrol. Look for suspicious persons." He gave Vivian a sly wink before scooting off.

They stood in silence for a moment. "Well this is weird," said Jamie at length. "Peck... The Cap said all her relatives were cops. Didn't realize she meant all."

"Ah. Yeah. Yeah." All the words that Vivian relied on when chatting with perps or her coworkers took a hike. Suddenly she felt awkward and gawky. Like the goofy kid who found Holly's old bespectacled bear toque and wore it while running around Vancouver with her Stewart cousins.

It was time to face the facts. Vivian was shy around girls she liked.

"So. You ran into the building?" Jamie was smirking

"At," corrected Vivian. "At. I caved in the door but it was too hot to go in."

"Nice job. Getting the one guy out. And you actually made the fire cool off."

That wasn't something she'd consciously done. The back of her brain though, it knew how that stuff worked. "Back drafts. Sure."

Jamie's eyes lit up. "You're not just saying that because you saw the movie, right?"

"Movie? No, no, my mom's a doctor. Scientist." Vivian forcefully bit her tongue for a heartbeat. "She's the chief medical examiner. So you know, science." Waving her left hand by her face, Vivian hoped she didn't sound as stupid as she felt she did.

The smile on Jamie's face gave her a little hope. "A smart cop, huh?"

"I have a degree and everything."

Jamie grinned. "So. This is probably the worst place and time. But..." The firefighter paused. "You get that I'm flirting, right?"

Her face felt insanely hot. "Yes. Yes I did. Do."

And her radio squawked. "Peck. When can forensics get at the body?"

She sighed and arched her eyebrows at Jamie. "Sorry. That was my sarge."

"Right. Tell her cool down is about halfway there. If the metal holds, we can get him out by lunch. Right now, they're worried about the structural integrity holding up."

Vivian made a face. "No offense, I've been here since nine last night." She thumbed her radio. "4727. It'll be 4 hours, give or take. They don't want it crashing on anyone's head."

"Copy. Go watch the line. See if anyone stands out from last night."

"Copy, Sarge." Vivian resisted the urge to rub her face. "Thank you, McGann."

The smile on Jamie's face was a little odd. "Sure. Last night?"

"We had a sting op." Vivian hesitated. "Are you... Staying around?"

Jamie tilted her head. "Until you get the body, yeah." Vivian nodded, trying to figure how to say she wanted to, perhaps, they could meet up. Or talk. Or exchange numbers. "Go look for evil people. I'll come find you when the scene is cooled."

That worked. Vivian exhaled. "Yeah. Um. Yes. Yes, that's ... Thank you."

Ears burning, Vivian walked back to the tape line. "She's cute," announced Christian.

"Shut up, C," muttered Vivian.

"She's checking you out still. Get her number?"

"We're at work." Vivian gestured between herself and Christian. "We. Are at work."

"That would be a no."

She wanted to punch Christian, but Vivian's eyes were drawn to a skinny, sniffling, man. "C. Remember Max?" Her partner made a confused noise. "Max Cortez. Brother of the arson supplier?" Christian said he did but sounded lost. Clearing her throat, Vivian shouted. "Hey! Gary!"

Gary Cortez looked up at her. "Oh. Shit!"

He took off running. Vivian didn't even think. She sprinted after. Gary skidded, throwing a trash can into her way. Clearing the hurdle easily, Vivian rounded the corner. "Why do they have to run?" It was, she'd learned, one of Gail's laments as a beat cop. But Gail had a knack to cut them off and save herself the exercise and Vivian did not. She had legs.

Exhausted or not, Vivian was going to catch that idiot.


The text was short.

No batting cages. Dinner maybe.

Holly snorted and texted back, telling Vivian to sleep and order in. She'd heard from forensics about how Vivian had collared a guy, literally yanking him by his collar, and thus arrested the arson supplier. From Gail, she knew that he was, alas, only the supplier who had wanted to see what trouble his wares had caused.

And Holly? Well she had a dead body. Actually Wanda had a dead body. Holly was just there to peek. "That is one Kentucky Fried Felon," Holly said as she looked at the body. It was possible she'd lived with Gail for too long.

"Is hiring a hooker a felony?"

"If the prostitute is under 18, yes. Otherwise it depends. They were just trying to get them on communication."

Wanda shook her head. "Your family is weird."

"Hah, you've only met the Pecks, too." Holly felt her own side of the family, spread out over Canada, was even weirder in their own way. Her mother's sister had finally moved out of Toronto, after years of threats about the weather... To Quebec City. Her father's family roamed up and down the Pacific Coast, like a nomadic herd of scientists. Now that her nieces and nephews were grown, they'd moved into marine biology, solar energy, and the two Vancouver cops who were totally in love with Gail.

With a wry smirk, Wanda cut into the body. "If you think she's normal, I'm a little scared."

"I never said Gail was normal. Or Vivian." Holly sat on the handy stool, feeling a little old. "You read my notes on the other victims?"

"I did. And I agree, all but the last two, this fellow included, seem to be accidental. Test runs."

That was their working theory. Someone who lighting fires and the early victims were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They couldn't discern actual motive, that was Gail's bailiwick. John's. This was his case.

Holly pulled her phone out and texted John.

Looks like murder.

His reply made her laugh.

Smells like Teen Spirit?

There was a reason John and Gail got along so well. The next text said he was on his way. "Sgt. Simmons will be here soon."

"Stick around? God knows I could use your brain on this." Wanda sighed. "I'm good, you know."

Holly tilted her head. "Good?"

"Yeah. I like being a pathologist. But I'm shit at people wrangling, I have zero political sense, and I'm not really into being in charge."

Smiling, Holly leaned back in the stool. "Lucky for you Rodney said he'd quit if I made you his second."

Wanda smirked. "Lucky for everyone. Rodney's going to be the next Medical Examiner."

Ah. That's where this was going. "Unlikely. I have a feeling he'll retire around the time I do." Holly loved her job too much to consider quitting any time soon. "Maybe I'll step down to half hours. Semi-retire. Maybe not."

"Not even when you're sixty-five?"

One of the things she'd always liked about Wanda was how direct she was. "That's a few years out. He's only three years behind me." And the odds were that Rodney would retire before Holly. That was just how it felt. "Wanna try for Medical Director?"

"We losing our Québécois?"

"Not a secret. She's looking for a replacement."

Wanda nodded and stretched. "Ivan."

Holly made a face. "What about Alice?"

"She's about as good as I am with people."

"Ugh. Jane?"

"Too new." Wanda narrowed her eyes. "You don't want Ivan because he's a guy?"

"No." Holly grimaced. "I don't like him that much. We don't get on."

Wanda smirked. "That was so British of you. Wow." Then she said, firmly, "Ben."

"Ben? Head of field units Ben?" Holly blinked and realized that Wanda had a point. "Ben... Shit." While Wanda smirked, Holly pointed out something amusing. "Your claims at being shit with people pales in comparison to your talent for personnel selection."

For a moment, Wanda looked panicked. Then she laughed. "You can keep me around for that."

"That is entirely possible." Holly leaned forward. "So. What do we know?"

"Caucasian male, under thirty. There was trace in his arm, the needle was still there." Wanda made a face. "That's ... You know I get weed and cocaine, smoking things, sure. But needles?"

"You're a doctor," Holly said with a laugh.

"I know, right?" Wanda shook her head and got out the carcass scissors. "This reminds me of last Thanksgiving. My dad tried to cook a turkey in the grill."

Holly frowned. "Isn't ham traditional for Thanksgiving?" Gail had done a roasted pork loin that had been so good, there had been no leftovers.

"Dad did college in the States." Wanda cracked the breastbone and peered. "He was pretty healthy for a dead guy. And under twenty-five... Actually I think he may be around twenty. Look at his development here."

Getting up, Holly took a look at the body. While not an exact science, the relative sizing of various internal organs had been gaining use as a benchmark for age. Combined with bone density and teeth, they'd been getting closer and closer to true. "The IDs all burnt up," Holly said morosely.

Wanda looked smug. "Stand back. We'll try science!"

It was impossible for Holly not to smile.


The hands on her shoulders slackened their grip and the woman below her exhaled a long, low, breathy laugh. Making herself comfortable along side her wife, Gail felt smug. "I take it back," sighed Holly, eyes still closed and lips curved into a careless smile. "I'm not mad the batting cages are closed."

Smirking, Gail kissed Holly's shoulder and hopped out of bed. Only one thing on the planet would get her out of bed that soon after sex, and it was their dinner in the oven. "I think I had a suitable alternative, since you still won't go shooting with me."

Holly whinged. "I hate guns. It feels so invasive and percussive."

"Not things you usually mind when I'm doing them." Gail turned on the shower and heard the loud groan as Holly's mind caught up with the joke.

"You are not funny, Gail!"

"I am goddamned hilarious!" She stepped into the steaming water. "And the timer hasn't gone off."

There was the sound of shuffling in the bedroom. "You know I hate it when you time sex around cooking." Holly's complaint was halfhearted. More than once she'd admitted to being impressed by the multitasking.

Scrubbing her hair, Gail smirked more. "You want dinner or not?"

Another groan from the bedroom. "Fuck."

"We did that." Gail hummed to herself as she showered. She was not surprised when the door opened and a messy haired Holly stepped in. After all, that was why they'd gotten the new shower. Once the hot tub went in at the cabin, they'd torn out the bathroom at home and put in a massive shower. They still had a tub, of course, but the shower was huge and the bathtub more normal.

"Scoot over." Elbowing Gail playfully, Holly yawned and got under the water.

Gail soaped up a washcloth and scrubbed Holly's back. "You are so bossy."

"I've yet to find another way of getting you to do what I want." She paused for a moment and then grinned.

Snorting, Gail nudged Holly out from the spray to rinse off. "You're a dick."

Her wife laughed. "I thought my lack of one was a primary feature of your attraction to me."

Gail rolled her eyes and stepped out of the shower, kissing Holly as she passed by. "Bird in the oven. Basmati rice, onions, peas. You know you love me."

"Married you for the cooking!" And Holly proceeded to sing, off key, as she showered.

Gail was certain, years from now, when they were retired and sitting by the lake shore, watching Vivian's kids (or Leo's, someone was getting them mini humans), that she would remember the little moments like this. Maybe that by cramming in millions of wonderful memories she could forget and ignore the deep, dark part of her. That the brilliance, the illumination of Holly in her life made her finally the person she was always supposed be.

Before the Peckspecktstions. Before the lies and games. Before boyfriends and the academy and all the bullshit. Maybe this was who Gail Peck really was, deep inside. Sappy. Goofy. Funny, in a dark way. A good girlfriend. A good cop. A good wife. A good mother.

She scooped up her phone on her way down to the kitchen and texted Vivian.

Hope you're not wasting your night free of your moms.

There was no reply. Vivian was probably sound asleep. She'd been burning both ends of the candle and had looked relieved when Gail told her the cages were closed. Too bad she couldn't get them closer to their arsonist. Gary had been remarkably silent and the body still wasn't ID'd. Too bad they were no closer on solving the chain of head bashings.

Gail yawned and pulled the roasted bird out, uncovered, and tossed it back in. Twenty years of the cooking. Twenty years of calling the terrible singer upstairs her wife. Less than twenty of calling herself a mom. Being a mom. She laughed softly, remembering that moment.

"What's so funny, chuckles?" Holly had on a faded t-shirt, sweatshorts, and her hair was tied back in a braid.

For a heartbeat, she could only look at Holly. Crows' feet, grey hair, a scar on her leg from the time she wiped out sledding and nearly gave eleven year old Vivian a coronary. It had been a lot of blood. And right there in the kitchen that night, Gail just thought how damn lucky she was. Holly cleared her throat and reminded Gail of the question. "Remember when Viv called us Moms for the first time?"

Holly's expression softened. "Of course."

"I'm starting to think we did a good job."

Her wife rubbed her shoulder, passing by to get a drink. "We did. Amazingly. She's a little weird, but she knows we love her."

That had worried Gail earlier on. How could someone who lost everyone ever trust two total fuck up strangers? And yet. They'd given her the tools she needed to be a functioning adult. They'd prepared her for the world. And they were still there for her whenever they were needed. Was that the same chain built up by Heinrich Haan and his merry band of killers? Did he seek out the people who had no one and give them purpose?

Holly gently buffed Gail's head. "That's not all you're thinking up, blondie."

"We're never gonna solve that case," sighed Gail, morosely.

"The Haan case?" When Gail nodded, Holly shrugged. "Probably not, no."

Gail grimaced. "How can you be so blasé about that?"

"A lot more of my cases never get closed," Holly pointed out. "Juice, water, or wine?"

"Wine. Red." She leaned on the counter, checking the timer on her watch.

Holly hummed the song she'd been singing in the shower. "Want to walk me from our darling, melancholy, child over to people who bash in heads?"

No, she did not. But Gail nodded. "I was thinking about Viv and what if we hadn't been there. What if she'd been stuck with her grandparents?" Holly made a face. "Right. And if she'd been there, she might have turned out like Jordan, my CI. Running in gangs, miserable. What if Haan looked for people like that? People who had no reason to trust anyone. And how is that any different from me giving her a ... A purpose I guess, by being a cop?"

Her wife looked up at the pictures hanging on the kitchen walls. Holly's face was thoughtful, something Gail had gotten used to over the years. While she processed and reacted quickly, Holly was much more methodical. She processed slower, but perhaps deeper. "At its most base level, it's not."

Leave it to Holly to say what Gail was thinking, but hoping to be wrong. She scowled. "Awesome."

"Purpose is purpose, honey. You and I gave her a direction, we gave her hope that there can be people to be trusted. If I can say so, we are pretty damn awesome."

Gail pulled the chicken out of the oven with a grunt. "I know we are. But ..."

Holly waited, patiently, while Gail fussed with turning off the oven and getting plates. The problem was Gail still felt bad. No, not bad, just a little sad. Could they have done more? Had they really helped their daughter? Vivian had been six when her family died. She had been old enough to know what she lost.

Similarly, Gail knew what she'd lost with her own family. To find out, as an adult, that her Peck family had prioritized grandeur of their name over her own well being was, in a word, galling. To have her father consciously walk away from them, to leave them unsettled and unresolved, still stung.

"Damn it," grumbled Gail. Holly didn't say anything. She put a hand on Gail's back and gently rubbed. "It's just ... You know?"

"No," said Holly, sadly. And that was a truth. Holly had parents who, save for two brief moments of consternation, had always been there for her. Brian certainly had been there every moment of Holly's life. She was a daddy's girl, but that never really impacted her relationship with her mother. Holly was free with both, free to talk about her feelings. Free to tell her mother she was an idiot about med school.

For many years, Gail had envied that. Then, one year when Vivian was not quite a teenager, Brian confided in his jealousy of the ease at which Gail and Holly navigated the world. They'd survived harder moments than he and Lily, with more grace and balance than they'd achieved. It had stunned Gail to realize she was the success. She had it all.

With a whine to her voice that she wished she could quell, Gail asked, "How come I still doubt?"

Holly sighed and leaned against her. "You're a mom. I think it's our job. Worry, doubt, stress, worry."

"I hate it."

Holly made a noise of agreement. "How many cases have you had go unsolved?"

Blinking, Gail craned her neck. She trusted those beautiful brown eyes. "A dozen or so."

"About one every other year?"

Gail nodded. "I only end up with high profile shit that kinda has to get solved."

"What about before?" Holly moved away to put the wine glasses out and get cutlery.

"Uh. Hell, as a uni? You kinda handed off everything interesting to the Ds and never saw it again."

"Hated it?"

"Despised. I don't like not knowing the end..." Gail trailed off. When had that changed? Hadn't she tried hard to not care? Don't get invested in people who are going to be idiots and hurt themselves. Don't feel. All the wrong lessons. The Pecks wanted her to feel for people to be a better cop, and back then all she'd felt was that this was the job she had to have. "Well shit."

Holly tilted her head. "Yes?"

"The difference is the part when we have to help others. To do the right things, not the easy ones."

Her wife smiled. "Always comes back to that, doesn't it?" She picked up the plates and brought them to the table. "She tries to do the right things. Stumbles, but hey, so do we."

"You know that those assholes think they're doing the right thing, babe."

Holly shook her head. "No they don't. They may say it, but they don't really think it. They think they're doing the easy thing and they try to convince themselves that it's right."

Gail squinted. "Did you just go all psych rotation on me, Doctor?"

"Maybe," said Holly, grinning. "About as far as my theory can go, mind, is that the reason you do better than the criminals you're up against, is that you're not dividing your mind. You know you're doing right."

"And here I thought I was the hero of a comic book."

Holly swatted her arm again. "You are so incredibly egotistical, Detective." But the broad smile, quirked a little to the side, told Gail the truth. That Holly loved it.

She grinned and sat down. "It's really annoying, though! I hate that these assholes have gotten away with it for years."

"Maybe their luck is up, now that Super Peck is on the case."

"Ew, that's my superhero name?" Gail screwed up her face. "Come on, nerd. Give me something better. Like ... "

"Blonde Mayhem?" Holly giggled. "The Bat Pitcher?"

Gail rolled her eyes. "Shut up, Shoots With Her Eyes Closed."

They spent the rest of the evening coming up with worse and worse names for each other. That was the way love was, though. Someone to tell the worst jokes to, and they still laughed.


"So is it like, love at first sight?"

Vivian blinked and looked at Lara, pausing in her filing of desk paperwork to end out her shift. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and that girl. Was it instant fireworks? Like you saw her running and now, ba-boom, you're hot for her?"

Startled, Viv hushed her. "McGann. And no. That's not even a thing," she hissed. "No one falls in love like that except in stupid soaps." Not even her mothers had fallen in love right away. Holly hadn't even realized she'd been in love until she walked away from Gail in the hallway, when they'd been broken up for over a month.

Lara handed over the next folder. "Why are you so hush-hush about it? Don't want your Moms to know?"

Jesus. "No, I don't. Because they'd run a background check on her." Vivian pitched her voice as low and flat as possible.

Her friend looked surprised. "You really think so?" The idea was clearly fomenting in Lara's mind, that someone from a line of cops might have that problem.

"I know so." She didn't. Gail might not, actually. Elaine would, though, which was the next worse thing. Steve would, and then he'd gossip about it with the known world. The jackass.

"Did she really ask you out after you caught the supplier?"

Vivian nodded. "She did." As Vivian had frog-marched Gary back to the squad car, she'd been surprised by a very impressed looking Jamie standing next to Christian. When C took charge of Gary, Jamie had told her the building was safe and handed her a piece of paper. On the paper was a number and a date and location. Kind of suave, Vivian felt. She'd blushed the entire ride back to the station, with C teasing her.

"I'm impressed you caught on. Has it occurred to you that you're really bad at picking up when women are flirting with you?"

"Bite me."

Lara grinned. "So. When's the date?"

"Tonight at Mullroney's."

"Her turf?" Lara looked impressed. "Bold choice."

"The Penny would be worse," sighed Vivian. The Penny, even if no other Peck was there, would mean her family would know before the first beer. She slapped the last folder closed and shoved it into place. So many notes were still taken by hand, transcribed, and then filed by rookies. They'd never be paperless, she felt. "How did you even hear about this?"

"Christian asked me if the clothes you wore to work were okay for a date."

"Remind me to kill him." But then she asked. "They are okay, right?"

Lara waggled her hand. "You're riding your bike, so you have limited options."

Jeans and a nice, snug, shirt. The boots were a necessity though, unlike Gail, she kept them buckled. Well. It would have to do.

At least she wasn't going to be back at her parents house that night.

The ride to the bar was tense. Was Jamie going to be happy to see her? Was she nervous? Was it all just a little weird and awkward? Was she going to be suave and cool? Vivian sighed and parked her bike in back, locking her helmet in the box.

Inside, the bar was a little like the Penny. Dark, a little smelly, with photos of various firefighters all over. Okay, it was exactly like the Penny, just for firefighters. Why had she expected anything else?

And there was McGann. Jamie. Vivian ran a hand through her hair and smiled, crossing the bar. She was way too used to the Penny, which had been her bar her whole life. Once in a while Gail went to Burro, the bar by TwentySeven, but Vivian had only gone a couple times. This was a new experience. A new bar. And it was filled with firefighters.

"Hey," she smiled at Jamie, coming up to the table where two men sat along side the familiar face.

"Hey, you made it!" Jamie popped to her feet, her pony tail swinging, and hesitated. It was that awkward moment where two people were in public and trying to figure out if they were going to like each other in public or not. Did they hug as friends? "Um. Hey."

It was kind of cute and it helped that Jamie was just as confused as Vivian. "You said that already."

"Sounded familiar," laughed Jamie. "You have a motorcycle?" She gestured at the riding jacket in Vivian's hand. "Or are you just trying to be cool?"

"I have a motorcycle and yes, I know, stereotype." Glancing at the two men back at the table, she jerked her chin over to them. "Chaperones?"

"Oh right! These are the guys from my rookie class. Justin and Mike. Guys, this is Vivian."

The guys shook her hand and scooted around to make room. "Weren't you at the arson?" Justin was a stunningly athletic man with amber eyes, muscles, and a big smile.

Vivian nodded, signaling the waitress. "I'll get the next round." The order was for the house beer in a pitcher. Interesting. "Arson, yes, I was there for the fire." She'd been a hooker the night before, though that didn't matter much.

"She caught the guy," pointed out Jamie, a little defensive and proud at the same time. Perhaps it was equally weird for a firefighter to be asking out a cop as it was for a cop to ask out a firefighter.

Mike, a nearly gangly man with hair as blonde as a Peck, frowned and confirmed Vivian's theory. "I dunno, McGann. A cop?" Yep. Just as weird. Mike was clearly skeptical of Vivian's presence.

Rolling her eyes, Jamie instructed Vivian, "Ignore them."

"Don't worry, most of Fifteen is guys too," smiled Vivian.

The three firefighters bantered like the rookies in her division, clearly friends and family. They told stories about each other, teasing and fun. Like they called Jamie by her last name because there was a James and a male Jamie already. When the boys went to get the next round, Jamie leaned over. "Sorry. I was thinking we could do a drink and leave, maybe do dinner, but they got all weird when I said you were a cop."

"It's fine, really."

Jamie chewed her lip. "Really? Because you're not saying a whole lot."

Reaching over, Vivian touched Jamie's hand. "I get that a lot," she admitted. "And meeting the friends first? Daunting."

They both looked at their hands for a moment and Jamie blushed. That was a promising sign. Vivian was doing okay. Jamie asked, "Why daunting?"

"When my Moms first met the friends, they ended up getting into a stupid fight and breaking up."

That surprised Jamie. "Moms? Plural?"

"Yep, two moms."

Jamie looked impressed. "So one's a cop and one's the medical examiner?"

Vivian nodded. "Detective Inspector, yeah. Married twenty years last month." The boys returned with a pitcher at that moment.

"Twenty years, wow," Mike was impressed. "I bet they never have sex. The whole lesbian bed death thing."

Justin slapped his arm. "You can't just say that, bro!"

"He can say it all he wants, it's not true," sighed Vivian.

Smirking, Jamie asked, "All the time?"

"I've walked in on them." More than once. On the couch. And the lounge chair in the backyard. And their bedroom the times they forgot to close the door. And the guest house at the Stewarts. And every single possible place in the cottage except her room, thank god. At least not since it had been her room. At the old house, they'd probably had sex in the room that became Vivian's. Moving out hadn't changed that much, she'd let herself in to drop off a book Holly wanted, and caught them in the sun room.

The conversation moved to the awkwardness of how many of them had seen their parents at it (everyone but Mike). While she did engage a little more in the conversation, Vivian struggled to be chatty. It never came naturally to her in crowds, worse than just with one person, and she didn't ever feel like telling the guys about herself was fun. But all night, when Jamie smiled, it made her feel warm.

Around eleven they started heading out. Jamie held the door open, letting the boys settle the tab with most of Vivian's cash. "Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Second shift," nodded Vivian, stepping out into the muggy night. "I had fun."

Jamie looked doubtful. "You really don't talk much about yourself."

Shoving her hands into her pockets, Vivian sighed. "Yeah. I'm not a ... I'm not a me talker. Sorry."

But Jamie was leaning in a little. "Well. You're smart. I saw you go after the guy. That tall guy said you saw him when no one else did."

Vivian blinked. "C said that? Huh." She should thank him later. Right now there was a rather attractive woman, though, and she didn't want to think about Christian. "So. Not that I don't like your friends, but maybe we could go out without them next time?"

"Hey, you said a whole, long, sentence." Jamie was smirking. Teasing. And it was the good teasing.

"I gave a speech at the police academy."

"What about?"

"Medical jurisprudence and the patrol officer." Vivian grinned. Elaine had told her that Gail skipped out on her own speech.

Jamie smiled back. "You're very odd."

"Yeah, get that a lot too."

"But you asked me out for a next time."

Vivian nodded. "That does not happen a lot," she admitted.

The boys tumbled out of the bar. "McGann! You're the ride!"

"Be right there," she called back. Once the boys headed to the parking lot, Jamie cleared her throat. "If I say yes, will you tell me about your Moms breaking up and still managing to be married two decades?"

Vivian paused for a heartbeat. "Sure. If you tell me what Jamie's short for."

The firefighter laughed and leaned in, surprising Vivian, and kissing her quickly. It was a soft press of lips to lips. A split second. "Nothing. Jamie Lynn McGann. Call me."

The kiss had felt wildly different from kissing Liv, or the other girls she'd dated. There was something hopeful and promising about the nearly chaste kiss. She couldn't quite place the feeling. Once, Matty had asked if she was autistic, because she was so quiet and didn't always seem to get people. Really she was just self-contained, like Zoë from Firefly. And she did get people, she just thought they were often stupid.

In that moment, with that kiss, she felt stupid and warm and happy. Hopeful. That was a novel feeling from a kiss. She'd not had a girl move slow like that for a first kiss before.

The next morning, Christian was smirking at her. "Hello. You got home late."

"Eleven is not late, C." She rolled her eyes and started making coffee.

"And?" He looked hopeful.

Vivian frowned. "And what?"

"And did Vivian go out last night and meet the sexy sexy firefighter?"

"Vivian did," she admitted quietly. That got her an elbow. "What? I'm trying to make coffee here, loser."

With a broad grin, Christian asked, "Did you kiss?"

"Oh god, you're worse than my Moms," groaned Vivian. The water boiled and she poured it into the coffee.

"That would be a yes. Is there a second date?"

"Tentative." She had Jamie's number. "I have to call."

Christian poked her shoulder. "Call her. I haven't seen you smile like that ... Not since Gail screwed up on the rope swing when we were fourteen."

Vivian smiled. That had been a great day. Gail's epic belly flop had been caught on camera too. "That was funny."

"You were happy. You don't do the happy smile a lot." Christian stole the first cup of coffee and smiled.

She sighed. "Well." And he poked her arm again. "Ow! What the hell is up with that?"

Christian looked at her for a long moment. "Smile more. Laugh more. Everyone deserves to be happy, right?"

"Stop hanging out with Aunt Traci," muttered Vivian. "Look. Stop talking about Jamie to Lara, okay? Pecks plus firefighters? Cats and dogs. I don't want Gail to get all..." She waved a hand. "Gail."

"I'd be more worried about Miss Elaine, ya know," replied Christian. "Anyway, be happy. You know your moms care more about that, right?"

In her heart she knew. Vivian nodded. "Yeah." But sometimes her head got a little confused. "Look. Just ... Just let me do it in my own time? My last four girlfriends blew up spectacularly, so I kinda wanna take this slow."

"Alright," he said with a deep sigh. "At least you won't be using up all the hot water."


"Bazinga!" Wanda burst into Holly's office with a cry of joy.

Holly blinked a few times before asking, "Yes, Sheldon?"

"Arson headway. The supplies came from the stash at the tenements."

They'd assumed so, given Gary's presence. He was still refusing to give his name, according to Gail, so they'd taken to calling him Gary Smith until his DNA confirmed he was, indeed, Gary Cortez. But still, assumptions never held up in court. "Solid?" She looked up at Wanda seriously.

The younger woman nodded enthusiastically. "Solid as a drum. Tight as a rock."

Holly sighed a little. Of all of Wanda's habits, screwing up analogies like that was one that had only gotten worse. "And did you send me the results?"

"Of course," Wanda said with a huff. "I'm faster than the Internet."

Tapping her keys, Holly pulled up the results. "Hardly. I'm just trying to make sense of the data from the horse bone." That had been her headache. While Holly was good with bones, she was used to human bones and not the ancient. After calling the same forensic anthropologist she'd used on the mass grave from the 1900s, she'd had to find a zoologist who dabbled enough in the archeological.

Finally, though, she had her results. And they made no sense. The bone had been preserved and strengthened, but not in the way anyone of them had been familiar with. That meant she had to call a taxidermist, which was grotesque to the extreme. Even Gail, who delighted in the macabre, thought the idea of preserving animals was disgusting.

"Maybe you should call in a paleontologist," mused Wanda, after Holly explained the situation. "They don't just deal in fossils, you know. And if anyone knows about old bones..."

Holly sighed. "Which means a trip to McGill." Ever since Kathy Reichs, more well known for conceiving of the Bones books and TV show, McGill had held a strange prominence in Canada for the go-to resource for anything osteopathic. "Well. Anyway." She looked at the results from Wanda's work.

The pathologist dropped onto Holly's couch, looking out the window. "What got me is that it matches the serial arson theory. Same as for the fire in that homeless guy's cart." Wanda paused. "What happened to him?"

"The police got him into a housing facility, but as I understand it, he prefers being nomadic."

Wanda snorted. "I like my condo, thank you."

Smiling, Holly tabbed through the results. "I'm fond of four walls and a roof myself. Think you can trace this back to anything useful?"

"Working on an intersection of the drugs and the fire. The drugs did not match the ones at the arson, by the by."

"Of course not," Holly said under her breath. "That would be easy. What started the fire?"

"Dunno yet. Full arson investigation is ongoing. You should see the amount of bullshit the trace guys brought back. Well, you probably did."

Holly looked up again, confused. "I don't haunt the trace lab."

"I just meant your daughter has been in there off and on all day."

What? Holly blinked a few times. "Oh. Well she's assigned to the case." But even so. That was odd. Maybe she'd have to swing by the lab soon. "Has Captain Peck shown up to see?"

"Nup. Lt. Tran and John- Sgt. Simmons did though. Actually they're in there now, harassing the techs." Wanda rolled her eyes. "I did give them the info first."

"Good. Good." Holly locked her computer. "I'm going to go kick them out. Trace lab hates the uniformed oppression."

Wanda laughed and went back to her office. She was now the proud resident of Holly's pre-medical director office. It was sad, in a way that Wanda would never rise up in the ranks. She'd be good. As it stood, with Holly having no desire to retire or step down, they'd be looking at either a new chief ME from out of the territory, or promoting someone over the others.

Well. Thoughts for another day.

She stepped into the hallway of the trace lab and heard a familiar voice talking excitedly.

"So I was looking over the list, and I kept thinking that the stolen car didn't make any sense. I mean, who steals a Volvo, right? But! This is a pre-2020 car! Which is when we had the new laws about greenhouse gasses. And what's different? The filter! And! The converters had to be installed on all cars to pass the emissions tests! And what did this car not have?"

Holly slowed down. That was Vivian. Babbling. About science.

It was sadly easy to forget how much Vivian was like her; how much of Holly's science nerdiness the girl had absorbed. But then, in a moment like this one, Vivian's switch was flipped. She was excited about what she'd figured out and she had to share.

"Hang on," said John Simmons slowly. "You're telling me the arsonist ripped the emissions filter out of a shitty Volvo just to set a fire? How the hell would he know what car our vic was driving?"

"Because it was stolen months ago," sang out Vivian. "He'd been driving it for months. We've got it on cctv as hitting up the hookers there for months. In that car. So if the arsonist was trying to kill the guy, he could easily have staked him out, stalked him, and then..." Vivian mimed an explosion. Holly saw Sue Tran and Shay Peck smirk.

John did not look as amused. "Murder by arson. That's far fetched."

"Someone's died at every fire except the one in the shopping cart of Mr. Grey."

"Who?" That was Shay.

Vivian explained simply. "Wentworth Grey, the homeless guy who had an incendiary device found in his cart. Made of..." The rookie beamed at Sue Tran, who started laughing.

"Oh hell, that's good, Peck." Sue shook her head. "Made of parts traced back to a mother fucking Volvo."

"Son of a ..." John slapped his head. "How the fuck did we miss that?"

Sue shook her head. "How the fuck did you think of using a car to start a fire?"

"Google," said Vivian, sheepishly. "If the Mounties come down because of my browser history, you'll bail me out, right?"

That was as good a time as any to join the conversation, decided Holly. "If Gail doesn't. Do you have a working model of the trigger?"

Everyone turned to stare at Holly. "Um. No. Theoretical." Vivian hunched a little, like when she'd been a teen and taken out Rachel's car's window with her rocket.

"Alright," said Holly, pulling out her tablet and tapping in a requisition. She handed it to Vivian, who tapped in the details. "If. If this works, you can blow it up at the range."

Sue brightened. "Isn't that my line, doc?"

"My lab, my rules, Tran," Holly pointed out. The lab techs all gave her a grateful look. "Besides, you aren't allowed to use the bomb range without lab sign off after last time."

Conceding, Sue shrugged. "You set one dummy on fire and they never let you forget it."

Shay snorted. "One and they might forgive you. Your bomb set all six on fire. And cracked the shield."

Glancing over, Holly saw Vivian barely suppressing her amusement. "Just so we're all on the same page," said Holly.

"Do we have a lead on the supplies yet?" Shay tilted her head to look at John.

"Not yet. Price is following that up."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Since I can't process invisible evidence, go away. You're oppressing my techs and there are other cases."

John nodded at her. "Right. Come on, Peck Junior. You're gonna run names for me until your doohickey shows up."

"Technically it's a thingamabob, sir," joked Vivian, following him out.

Shay, who looked very little like Gail, went with them. "I want to know where you picked that up, cousin, because Gail is shit at it."

On the other hand, Sue lingered, watching them all vanish around the corner. "So. It's really smart."

Holly sighed. "I know. And I'm torn on it."

"We do more than run into buildings." Sue rocked on her heels.

"It's not my choice, Sue." Holly shook her head. "You thinking about jumping to Inspector? You'd be a good ETF super..."

"You're changing the subject."

"You're talking about recruiting my only child for the highest risk unit this side of undercover." Holly scowled. "What would you think if one of your kids was up for it?"

The other woman looked a little abashed. Her twins, something Gail had laughed over when it happened, were now eight. "I don't know. I'll probably come over to your place and beg for advice."

That was fair. "It's not my place to tell her what to be or do, Sue. I worry about her now. I'll worry about her as an ETF agent. If she asks me what I think, I'll tie Gail down and tell Vivian to follow her gut."

Sue nodded. "You know, it's hugely impressive and kinda freaky that you're just okay with this."

It really was, except that it wasn't. "I'm not... When I was Viv's age, I knew what I wanted to be. My parents let me, even if they didn't understand it. So..." Holly trailed off, unsure of how to explain further.

The ETF lieutenant made a noise of understanding. "So you have to, too." Sue sighed. "They set you a high bar, huh?"

"Bit, yeah." By being okay and understanding with Holly's strange desire to be a pathologist, by accepting her sexuality, and by supporting her every step of the way, her parents had given her an incredibly high bar. They were the parents she wanted to be for her daughter. Even if Holly didn't always understand what Vivian wanted. She was always going to try and be the mom who understood.

But Holly really wouldn't have it any other way.


It was infinitely more fun to watch someone else interrogate losers than to do it herself. While Gail was good at it, she was never really as comfortable as she looked. She'd have to ask John how he felt about that...

"Gary." John leaned back in his chair. "All we want is a list of who you sold to. We've already got you on possession of drugs. Your DNA is all over the materials we found in your old apartment. But we know you didn't set this fire. Who did?"

For the umpteenth time, the lawyer spoke. "As your legal representation, I consul you not to answer this question.

For the umpteenth time, Gary nodded and was silent.

For the umpteenth time, John sighed. "We're going to have to charge you with the full list, Gary."

Lather, rinse, repeat. Gail was glad she wasn't in the room. She might have snapped. Instead, her favorite partner was calmly explaining how it was in Gary's best interest to help them out. But Gary seemed to have honor among thieves. It was rare, but some people did feel that way.

Gail closed her eyes and thought about the situation. In truth, Gary would only serve light sentences. They hadn't caught him selling or actively distributing anything. They had him on possession. They would have no real issue pushing an intent charge of that. So how could they scare him into flipping?

Intimidation was an ugly part of her job. Her wife absolutely hated it. Her inlaws, while they were wonderful people, were disgusted by that aspect of police work. And if she was being totally honest, Gail hated it too. Superintendent Elaine Peck had been amazing at it. As sad as it was, Gail was good at it too.

Gary's unwillingness to talk made Gail think about her own lingering case, the Skull Smash Serials. That was what the news decided to call it after stupid Gerald slipped up and told his (ex) girlfriend that the body found in the woods was related to a long term case. Frankly, if Gerald wasn't so good with dealing with junkies, Gail would have pushed for him to retire a long time ago.

Oh.

Grinning, she went back into the main floor and caught one of the rookies, Hanford, by the arm. "Hey, Abercrombie. Go find me Officer Moore."

"Uh, my name's Hanford, ma'am."

"Don't care. Get me Moore in five minutes." He hesitated and Gail scowled. That sent him scurrying.

Behind her, her brother coughed. "I don't know why he thinks you'd forget him. He hit on Holly."

"He would have hit on Traci," Gail pointed out. "I think junior warned him."

Steve snorted. "What's up with Officer Dumber Moore?"

Gail smiled. "Duncan has one particular and peculiar talent."

"Leaking information like a sieve?"

She rolled her eyes at her older brother. "Watch and learn, Gomer Pyle." Gail waved at Gerald. "Duncan, c'mere."

Bewildered and a little nervous, Gerald babbled in a way that was not endearing. "Ma'am, I'm real sorry about the news. I was just thinking she'd maybe go out with me again-"

"Do you want to make up for it?" Gail cut him off. At least when Holly babbled, it was cute.

He blinked at her a few times. "Um. Make up. Yes, yes ma'am!"

Gail beamed at him. "Good. Come here." She took him by the upper arm and hauled him into the monitoring room. "The tweaker there is named Gary. I want to know who he sold arson supplies to. But he's keeping silent."

Duncan looked from Gail to Gary and back. "You want me to break him?"

"No. I want you to be you."

Silent for a moment, Duncan made a surprised noise. "But his lawyer..."

"I'll take care of that." She pulled out a notebook from her pocket and scribbled on it. "Give that to Sgt. Simmons and then stay there on guard, okay?"

Nodding, Duncan took the note and didn't look at it. "I'll do my best, boss!"

Gail sighed as Duncan hustled to the door. "Swear to god, he has the mind of a mollusk, but..." She and her brother watched Duncan walk inside and hand the note over.

Her sergeant was too smart to look back at the glass, but Gail could feel his confusion. John nodded. "Mr. O'Neill, would you mind coming with me for a moment? Officer Moore, here will keep an eye on your client."

The lawyer followed John out and Gail smiled. "He's about to tell the suit that Gary's drug test is back and he's got more illegal drugs in him than on him."

"Haven't you had him here for hours?" Steve looked amused and laughed when Gail nodded. "You held on to that?"

"Hey, no law says I have to tell 'em right away!" She turned her attention to the room. Duncan looked pretty calm and relaxed. In the decades he'd been a cop, Duncan had been carefully and surprisingly molded into a decent officer. He'd never be more than that, but he was okay with that standing. Hell, Duncan even had a couple awards, all for working with junkies.

And on the days Gail needed someone to bond with a drug using perp, she got Duncan to stand guard over them and just be himself.

It was a weird skill. She had never asked him why he had a knack for it, nor had Gail asked his parents. At one point, she'd run Duncan's name and popped open a juvie record for theft under, and nothing more. There was no answer to his talent to be found in the files. Maybe it was just a thing, like the Peck siblings knowing sign language.

Every time Duncan moved, Gary jumped. It was sort of entertaining to watch, in a very demented way. Well. She had a screwed up sense of humor anyway.

"This is weird. And creepy."

"Says the man who nearly did time for a bomb."

Steve eyed her. "You know why I used Oliver's ID."

Gail did a double take. For the last twenty years that had been a case no one was allowed to talk about. "Seriously?"

"Oh hell," Steve rolled his eyes. "If the Irish Mob wants to kill me for a cover up that they made a movie about, let 'em!"

That had, indeed, been the most idiotic thing about the whole fucking mess. The movie, which had cast Tom Cruise as Oliver and they had teased him for years, was based on conjecture and rumor. A good cop, honest and true, was tasked with infiltrating the mob over the course of decades.

Gail sighed. "They didn't get any of it right, Steve."

"I know, right? I'm just glad they didn't cast Carrot Top to play me."

She nearly snorted a laugh. "I might have watched the movie if they had."

They both laughed softly. "How long do you think it'll take for him to crack?" Steve turned the subject back to work.

"Not much longer. See how he's giving Gerald the side eye?" Steve made a noise and nodded. "He's about to start feeling him out for a fix."

They waited, quietly watching through the glass. It took a little longer than Gail would have liked, but finally Gary spoke.

"Hey, man. Do you, like, have to watch me?"

Gerald nodded. "Yeah, sorry."

Gary sighed. "On tv they leave people alone all the time."

"Sure, we used to. Still do if we want 'em to crack."

"They don't want me to crack?"

The officer laughed. "Man, you been in here for hours. Past shift change."

"Oh." Gary looked thoughtful. "Is that why pretty boy isn't here?"

"Hanford? Nah, he's a rook. Can't trust 'em."

"Noobs. Hear that, brother." They shared a smirk. Gail was glad they couldn't see her roll her eyes. And then Gary said something delightful. "You look like a brother who knows things."

Bless his stupid little heart, Duncan rolled with it. "I've been known to acquire, from time to time."

Gary licked his lips. "So. Like. What might a man imbibe?"

"Depends on what a man confides," replied Duncan.

Steve snorted. "Holy crap, Gerald is useful?"

Gail beamed. "I know, right?"

It was great how things worked out sometimes.


Once in a while, Gerald is useful. And Vivian had a successful date. And yes, she is totally calling Jamie for date #2.

Let me know how you feel about this whole 'Vivian dates a firefighter' stuff. And how do you think Gail actually will react? And who else is shocked that Gerald was useful!?