02.10 - The Rules
At last, the identify of the serial arsonist comes to light. But will it be too late?
A name, a face, a motive, and a missing person.
Gail studied the notes from John and Lucinda. "You're solid on this?"
"Yes, ma'am," said Lucinda Trujillo. "It matches up. Now we know why Peter Hastings skipped town."
With a sigh, Gail nodded. She'd seen the news as well and knew why. "Did you find out why they let him go in the first place and didn't bother to escalate?"
"You won't like it." The calm voice of John bothered her in this moment.
"I rarely do, John." Gail had a theory too, and she didn't like it.
"It's what you're thinking. UoT asked the family not to press charges, saying it would tarnish their reputation. Dead gay basketball star, murdered by his lover."
Awesome. Gail's lips curled into a snarl. "Fucking awesome. You have a plan?"
"I do."
Flicking her glance to her sergeant, Gail caught his slight nod. John approved of this plan. "Okay. What do you need?"
"To flush him out I'd like to try and flip his friend, Ally Chapman, and drop a couple people undercover there. Catch him when he comes in for parts."
"What if she's delivering?"
"Then we follow her," said Trujillo firmly.
"Okay. So two undercover, two in a van for surveillance, and two back here with John? I'm assuming you want to be in the field?" When Trujillo blushed, Gail smirked. It would be her first big case. "All that's above board, John could sign off ..." Gail trailed off.
Again, John nodded. "That's why. Peck's earned it. And she can use the cover she accidentally invented last month." He paused. "I want to send her in with Nick though."
Gail frowned. "Fat chance history would repeat that one," she muttered. Would she ever forget how Nick had fallen for Andy? No. Unlikely. "Okay. Grab Volk for the van. She wants to go for Detective. Fuller or Hanford would be better for the backup if you're set on using rookies."
"I was thinking Fuller and Aronson for night surveillance. They're steady."
They were still rookies. But at their age, at their level in career, Gail had been doing sting ops. She sighed. At night would be when the action was expected, which was dangerous, but it was also when more steady hands would be on deck to direct. In a weird way, it was safer. "Alright. Work it up. John, you can approve it."
As Trujillo nodded and bounced out, John lingered by the door. "It was her idea."
"Doesn't matter." Gail opened her laptop. "She's a cop. Her destiny is hers, not mine."
"Very mature. You finally turning your age?"
"Bite me, John," said Gail. She glanced up. "Trujillo does good work with the rookies. Think she should take over as our liaison?"
"Yes, and you're changing the subject."
"John... " Gail pinched the bridge of her nose. "As an Inspector, the kids are good choices here. As a mother, it's not something I'm going to talk about at work," she added. "And what am I supposed to say about the school managing to convince at least three Divisions that the lezbo in Major Crimes shouldn't be handling the biggest gay related case in her jurisdiction? No matter what I do here, I'm fucked."
John sighed. "I'm not sure it's like that. But I want to talk to the Mayor-"
"You want to jump over their heads? Really?"
"Seabourn first. Then the Super. Then the Mayor. Because they're the cause of more deaths." John was stubborn and firm. It was rare that was the case.
Gail stifled a sigh. "I'll tell Seabourn and you tell Dov. But you get why I can't screw around with this."
Her long time friend and partner grunted. "Yeah, they're dicks. The shoot still on for next Saturday?"
Thank god for a subject change. "Yes." She tapped at the keys. "Mom's coming to score, but not shoot. I'll see you there." John still wasn't leaving. She glanced at him over the top of her glasses. Her friend had a strangeness to his stance. "Are you asking Janet to marry you?"
John spluttered. "Goddamn it! How do you do that!?"
Gail grinned and looked up. "I'm awesome. And she's going to say yes. When are you asking her?"
"Sunday. We're having dinner at that French place you told me about."
"Please tell me you made reservations."
John rolled his eyes. "Two months ago." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a box. "It's my Mom's. I had it resized."
Sentimentality was one thing Gail didn't have, but she understood it. Gail popped the box open and eyed it with the discernment born of the Armstrong lineage. "Nice. Good cut, clear crystal." She turned on her desk lamp and rotated the ring. "The setting is a little heavy. 1900s style, just after the turn of the century. I'd rather a princess cut, but the halo here is nice. And it's not a yellow diamond, thank god. The edging are replacement stones, though." She squinted and gave up, putting on her glasses. "Where'd you get those?"
"You know, once in a while you remind me you're a font of peculiar knowledge, Peck. Those I bought. Your mother helped me out."
"Oh good. Someone should keep her busy." Gail put the ring back in the box and handed it back. "Don't you fucking dare put it in food. Ask her after dinner, when it's just you, not in the restaurant where there's pressure. And shave. Because you looked terrible with the beard."
With a snappy salute, John smiled. "Solid advice. Thanks."
Gail shook her had as he left and went back to her work. There was no point in dwelling on the fact that someone was trying to keep a case out of her hands. It was there now and she would have to deal with the political shit eventually. In her younger days, she might have attacked and fought them, making her rage public and loud. Gail had always been good at that.
Now, fifty and wiser, she sent a memo to the Inspectors of the three divisions she covered, informing them that she was taking over the case and why. That she had assigned Trujillo, who would report directly to Simmons, who reported to her. That she expected every requested assistance to be met. And that John would be taking the situation to the Super and the Mayor.
Her sergeant had wasted no time. The moment the mails hit his queue, she saw him pick up the phone and read his lips as he greeted the Superintendent. Probably Dov, actually, who was the Super's sergeant, and likely to be promoted any day now.
By lunch, she had a call from the Mayor's office. They now knew the story and wanted Gail to know they had her back. Then again, they had to. She'd been in office longer than they had.
It wasn't surprising to her that the school had tried to cover things up. The more the world changed, the more it stayed the same. It stung that, even now, people were still ignorant, homophobic, and plain stupid about the whole thing. A kid died. A kid died because he was gay. And his death inspired more killing.
All her politicking done, Gail got back to work. She actually had a case for a change. Sadly it was boring. On the plus side, it took up rest of her day, concluding with an interrogation and arrest before five PM. Like a fucking boss. Gail grinned at the one good part of her day and had even better luck when she spotted her daughter on the phone in the hallway. Good timing.
"Hey, Viv. Wednesday."
Her daughter paused with the phone held up. "Um. Hang on a sec?" She tapped the phone and looked pleadingly at Gail. "Mom. Our schedules have been opposite since last month," whinged Vivian. Oh. Her daughter was trying to schedule a date with her girlfriend. When Jamie had come to dinner, Vivian had tripped over the designation. It had been adorable.
Years of Peck practice helped Gail school her face into subtle disappointment. "For a hook up?"
"It's not! Mom, tomorrow I'm on Trujillo's detail, she wants me to help her set up the op. You know how much time that takes up."
"And this is the excuse for blowing me off before my birthday?"
Vivian winced. "You'd rather spend it with Mom, and that's next weekend."
Gail broke and laughed. "I would. But she's going to make me go to the batting cages anyway. Shoo. We're on for next weekend, if I have to close the case myself."
"Crime will not interrupt your birthday. Promise." Vivian bounced off to a quieter corner and resumed her phone call.
It was a Vivian she didn't see often, almost never outside the house, but Gail watched her daughter smiling happily. Gail took her phone out and snapped a photo, sending it to Holly with the message that they were on their own for sportsball that night. Maybe they could just not go. While exercise like that helped Holly with her depression, it rarely helped Gail. And besides, Gail wasn't depressed like that, she was just sad and pained and angry.
We'll live.
Gail sighed. She wasn't getting out of the batting cages.
If I tell you I hate the batting cages, can we not go?
Her phone rang. "Is this my wife being grumpy about turning fifty-one, or a legit admission?"
"Neither. Maybe the first." Gail shrugged and walked to the parking garage. She didn't want to dump the shit on her wife yet either. "I like spending time with you. And I like how happy you are after the cages. But... Are we in a rut? We do this every week."
"You have a point." Holly made a tut noise. "Do you care if it's athletic? Stupid question, no you don't. Ahhhhh I know! There's that new super hero movie. Why don't we go see that? Or we can watch Netflix and chill." Holly paused a moment. "Well, that's athletic, though you've never minded that."
Gail eyed her phone. "You're scaring me. Why did you capitulate so fast?"
"Because you're right?"
Yeah. It was still weird. "Did you pull your back again?"
"No." Holly laughed. "Honey. If you're not enjoying something, we don't have to do it."
Opening her car door, Gail snorted. "Jesus you sound like the most reasonable person after I tell you I don't like anal."
"Okay, ew. And ..." Holly laughed. "Wait, who wanted anal? It couldn't be Nick or Chris."
"Not the point. And I'm not having that conversation on the phone. I'm confused."
Holly laughed again. "Gail."
"Nuh uh. Don't 'Gail' me. What's really going on?"
Her wife exhaled loudly on the phone. "I hate going to the batting cages every week."
Gail sat down in the driver's seat of her car and laughed. "What?"
"I do! Okay, I hate doing it every single week. I just... I love spending time with you, but God almighty, how do you go shooting every week and not get sick of it? We've been doing that for 18 years!"
Wiping tears from her face, Gail laughed more. "Oh. I love you, Holly."
"You're laughing at me."
"I'm laughing at us, Holly." Gail sighed. "Let's hang out at home and be lazy old ladies."
Holly exhaled a breath that sounded like she'd been holding it in for years. "I really like that plan," she said.
And, truth be told, so did Gail. It was a hell of a lot better than trying to figure out everything else right now.
"The Internet is a vile place," announced Trujillo to the officers in the room. And she pressed play.
Vivian frowned. She'd seen the video already. Two days before it had been all over the news, a college kid was filmed by his roommate. That was bad enough. He was filmed having sex. With a basketball star. A male basketball star. Who had subsequently died. And the kid was missing, originally a suspect for the other's murder, and now worse.
Just when she thought the world was getting a little better, that it accepted people no matter who they loved, or how they loved, they still would be attacked for what they were.
"But that's Toby Gale. He died ..." Rich paused and looked around, confused. "He died months ago. Why the hell would someone drop the vid now?"
When the other man's face came into view, Trujillo paused the video. "Peter Hastings."
This too, Vivian knew.
The boy accused of Toby Gale's death was their serial arsonist.
Toby's long term boyfriend, Peter Hastings.
Peter who had been bullied all his life and, now, was shouldering the blame for his lover's death. No small wonder he'd gone insane and started killing.
"Toby Gale committed suicide. We had Dr. Ury and Dr. Stewart check the results. An overdose of prescription anxiety meds."
"How'd they misdiagnosis a suicide?" Rich's question was honest, though it rankled Vivian. She always felt that digs on the lab were a bit personal.
Trujillo shook her head. "It's complicated. The original case suggested murder, and Hastings was seen leaving Gale's dorm in the middle of the night. Hastings was prescribed the same medicine found in Gale's stomach. The assumption was coerced suicide, as there was no note. As it happens, Gale's roommate was on the same medication, but a different generic. After Gale's death, he had a psychotic episode and everyone thought it was related to finding his roommate dead."
Totally understandable, in Vivian's mind.
"But it wasn't?" Jenny looked astounded. "And how is this related to the arsons ma'am?"
Nick coughed and the rookies fell silent. "The lab found out someone swapped his meds," he offered.
This time John Simmons nodded, lurking beside the podium. "A review of the blood drawn when the roommate broke showed he was on Hastings' medication, a different off-brand but the same basic script, and Gale had OD'd on the roommate's."
"But—" Christian was confused.
"The school covered it up," said Vivian softly. "A gay basketball star committed suicide. If they publicized a murder by his lover, they'd have to explain why. So they suppressed the case and didn't escalate." It made her see red.
It apparently left a bad taste in everyone's mouth. The murmuring in the room built up and Trujillo and John let it go. Vivian caught John's eyes and his subtle widening of the eyes. That was the other part. Because Vivian knew her mother had not known of this angle of the case until shortly before Vivian herself learned about it. Which meant the cover up went pretty damn high. Which meant someone intentionally kept the out lesbian Inspector Peck out of the loop.
No matter how you looked at it, it was bad. And on a personal level, Vivian felt guilty for ditching her mothers on batting cages night. Jamie would remind her than she was the kid, not a parent, no doubt, had Vivian mentioned that. The problem wasn't that Vivian felt like a parent or a child but that she was family. And family, hers at least, stuck together and supported each other when they were needed.
Sometimes Gail acted like the only people she could rely on were Holly and possibly Vivian. Other times she seemed to remember that she had a support structure of friends and family. Elaine mentioned it was a Peck thing. That they'd gone out of their way to teach their children that no one would have their backs. When Vivian, maybe ten or twelve at the time, replied that she already knew that, Elaine looked pained.
Everyone carried damage. It was just one of those constants in life. Everyone was screwed up.
"Actually," said John, looking up from his phone. "It's worse than that." He stood up and walked to the door, closing it. "This is privileged information. I have permission from the Crowne's office to tell you since you lot are working the case."
Without a signal or cue that Vivian could see, Trujillo nodded and pointed at Vivian and Nick. "Collins and Peck will be undercover. You're both former minor lackeys for Anton Hill. Collins is a wheel man, Peck's a minor grifter with a penchant for automotives."
Vivian wasn't super happy that she was going to be using the contacts she'd cultivated on the scavenger hunt, but she was a cop. This was her world. She had to be okay with turning on the people who backed her, when they weren't cops.
It didn't mean she had to like it.
"We have a tight timeline. Peck and Collins start tonight. Aronson, Fuller, Mayhew, and Moore, you guys will be sharing van duties with Detective Connors. She's in charge of pair ups. Volk, you filled in your application for the detective rotation. You'll be here with me and Trujillo. Consider it part of your evaluation. Questions?"
Jenny lifted her hand. "Are we in uniform in the van?"
"You are. And there's no bathroom in a surveillance van, so if you can't hold it, use a bottle."
When Jenny looked appalled, Trujillo shrugged. "This is what it is. If you want to back out, it's now or never."
"No, ma'am," mumbled Jenny.
They went over the rest of the case information, most of which didn't apply to Vivian and Nick. They knew their tasks already. They knew the case already. They'd told their girlfriends that they'd be in and out of communication (though Vivian suspected that it would be easier for Nick since Andy knew everything about the case already).
On the other hand, Jamie hadn't been too thrilled, especially when Vivian added in the fact that Gail wasn't having a birthday party. Just a target shoot and a quiet family dinner, without even her own mother. That seemed to help. It was very hard to balance her work and family and girlfriend. She assumed it had been easier for her mothers, since Gail hadn't been talking to her parents when they'd started dating, and Holly's had already moved to Vancouver.
Vivian was navigating things alright, she felt. Hoped. So far, Jamie and Matty got along. As soon as they'd met, they'd been friends, and that was a huge relief. Matty was her oldest and best friend, and having him like her girlfriend was a load off her shoulders. And the whole 'here's a key to my place' thing. Which had gone really well.
They weren't really undercover, to boot. They were casually undercover. Days they had their own 'thing' which was mostly going to be sleeping. Evenings and nights they would go out to the various chop shops and trade in cars that the detectives had selected for them over the night. The goal was to get an in, get where they could meet Ally Chapman, and trail her to find Peter Hastings.
On paper, it sure sounded awesome. Vivian was pretty sure the reality would be different.
"I wish we could take some time off for your birthday," sighed Holly. "Even just slip off to the cabin, enjoy the hot tub..."
Gail groaned softly. "Please don't remind me how much I'm missing birthday sexcapades... You know, our birthdays are the perfect distance apart." She savagely chopped an onion.
Their birthdays were roughly half the year apart. "I thought you hated how close yours is to Christmas."
"Not the point. By the way, Mom wants to do Christmas Eve here. And bring Gordo. I say we remind the Monkey to invite her girl."
"Are you inviting her to your party?"
"No. But that's because we're not having a damned party." Gail shook her head.
Holly studied her wife for a moment. First the batting cages, now this. She waited until the knife went down and Gail dumped the onions into a bowl with some flour. As the blonde started to toss the onions, Holly walked up and started to gently rub her shoulders. "What's going on, honey?"
Her wife grunted. "Salt and pepper please?"
"Hey." Holly reached around and took hold of Gail's forearms. She leaned against Gail, resting her cheek on the back of Gail's head. There was a lot of tension in Gail's entire body just then.
Gail sighed. "The Summerland Arsons are the work of Toby Gale's boyfriend, who was suspected in his murder. And I wasn't told because someone didn't want the lesbian Inspector messing around with a high profile case that the school wanted to cover up."
Oh. Holly frowned. "And now they can't keep you out of it?"
"Nope. And they're blaming me for releasing the video."
It took Holly a moment to realize what video Gail was talking about. The sex video of Toby Gale, the night before his death, involved what looked like consensual homosexual sex. She'd accidentally caught a flash of it before figuring out which tab was auto-playing the video. "Wow. Who... Who the fuck is that stupid?"
"Don't know. Seabourn's looking into it with Dov. He's lost his cool over it."
Holly let go of Gail's forearms and wrapped her arms around the other woman's waist. "How long have you been holding onto that?"
"Yesterday." Gail put the knife down.
Sighing, Holly rested her head against Gail's shoulder. "Does Viv know?"
"Yeah. Had to warn her."
Holly nodded and closed her eyes. "Been a long time since anyone cared about shit like that."
"I forgot," Gail said softly, a frustrated admission. "And now Viv's undercover."
That was a whole different level of daunting. "How's she going to sleep?"
"At home." Gail shifted and gently tugged Holly's hands to free herself. "She and Nick work at night, day time they drive off to a safe house in an apartment, then we sneak them out, debrief, they fill out paperwork, and go home to sleep. 18 hour days, though."
"Didn't you do that back when we were not-dating?"
Gail turned to look at Holly, a tired smile on her face. "Yeah. Me and Dov."
Holly kissed her cheek. "Long long time ago. Are you safe to cut the vegetables?"
"I think so." Gail picked up the knife again and put it against the second onion. "Can you distract me?"
"Sure." Holly hopped onto the counter and watched Gail cook. "I'm going to run another marathon."
"Yeah?" Gail smiled. "Is this because we're not doing the batting cages?"
Holly grinned. "While we are not the jock that our child is, running helps me like yoga helps you. Aaaand I would like to maybe come with you to that?"
"Hah, no you don't. I'm doing the hot box yoga with Rachel and Chloe."
"Ew." Holly laughed. "Okay, actually I do want to try it. With you. I like doing stuff with you."
"It's okay not to like the same things." Gail turned on the burner under a pan, pouring in some oil.
Holly nodded. "I know. You won't be doing marathons."
"Shit. Plural?" Gail made a face. "I'll cheer you on and massage you later, but I'm not running."
"Not asking." Holly smiled and watched as Gail tossed the onions into the pan. As Gail cooked, the general scowl on her face faded and the blonde eased into a more mellow state of mind. It was her zen. Her calm. It was all okay, because cooking was structured and simple.
No one had to worry about the feelings of an onion while it was cooked. Maybe a vegetarian or vegan might worry about it, but Gail didn't have to care if a duck hated her when she seared the breast to make dinner. No, this was one, small, area in the world where no one judged Gail about anything.
She was happy when cooking.
Holly tilted her head. "You could have been a cook."
"What?" Gail glanced over.
"If you weren't a cop, you could have been a cook. Maybe a private chef."
Her wife eyed her suspiciously. "What brought that on?"
"You're happy." Holly bounced her heels off the cabinets. "I was thinking, what would you be if you could have been anything."
Gail shook her head. "It's ... It's right to be a cop. I'm a good cop."
Holly nodded. "I know." She shrugged. "But you know, you don't have to be one thing."
"I'm not imaginative enough," sighed Gail. "I like what I do, and I'm good at it, so... That's what it is." She paused. "There wouldn't be less homophobic or political bullshit, no matter what I do, Holly. I draw that sort of thing in."
Well. That was true. Holly leaned back and wondered what she'd be, if not a pathologist. A scientist certainly. She loved science and math and learning. It was everything she'd really wanted to be. "We are who we were meant to be."
"You're scaring me with your philosophical bent, doc," said Gail cautiously. "What's going on in your head?"
She could have lied, or demurred, and simply not told Gail the realization she'd come to recently. But there was no point in lying about any of that.
"I was thinking about how hard it was to get used to you being shot at, and how easy it was for Viv."
Gail looked over and frowned. "This better have come from a session."
"It did. I was talking to him about how last year, when Viv was a hostage, I freaked out. But this year, when she actually got shot..." Holly shrugged. It had been the topic of discussion off and on for the last year. Dealing with the stress and emotional trauma of being a cop's wife wasn't at all the same as a cop's mother.
Her wife thought about that for a while, putting the duck into the oven. "All my life, cops were adults who know what they're getting into. Steve, even, was older than I was. But... You came into it as an adult, and suddenly you had to get used to the idea of me getting hurt."
Holly nodded. "Once I understood that, accepting Vivian as a cop was an extension of letting her be scared and run around as a kid."
The blonde made an 'ah hah' sound. "I still don't get why parents don't let their daughters try stuff out, you know."
Snorting, Holly pointed at Gail. "Who was it that was absolutely terrified when Vivian showed off her standing backflip?"
Gail rolled her eyes. "She was ten! And no one taught her that!"
"We let her be scared. And it was hard for us, but..."
"But you let go of her bicycle seat first." Gail washed her hands off. "We have about twenty minutes. Potatoes are in. Make me a salad?"
Holly hopped off the counter. "Wine?"
"Yep. I'm on it." Gail smiled. "You're happy I don't run out into danger all the time, aren't you?"
"Less than I thought I'd be," confessed Holly. "You get so frustrated by things you can't fix. I think you'd be happier sometimes if you were back out there."
It was one of the things Holly had come to expect, even now. Gail would still run into trouble, though never as headlong as others. Before, Gail was tempered by a bit of rebellion that manifested as laziness. The Gail that Holly had met was cautious but a little more realistically daring. Now she was simply prepared for what was next, and ready to meet whatever it was.
As Gail had said once before, the rules of engagement changed depending on the level of crimes. She didn't do undercover anymore, which had always been Holly's least favorite thing. She didn't talk down criminals with guns often. She played a high stakes mental game with the criminals of Canada.
And yeah, Holly thought that was pretty damn awesome.
"You let go of her bicycle," said Gail as she put the wine glasses on the kitchen table. "I probably should have done that sooner."
"I've already been through the angst of watching someone I love put the whole city before her safety," corrected Holly. "But you know what's awesome? You have me right here." Holly beamed at Gail, who grinned back.
"When you put it that way..." Gail shook her head. "Aren't I the narcissistic and immodest one?"
"Well you are the nudist," teased Holly.
Day three of her kid being undercover. It was officially weird. She'd never really been worried about someone in the field like that before. The first time she'd sent someone seriously undercover, it had been Chloe. Before that, the first time she'd run a low-cover case... Huh, it had been with Chloe as well. And Gerald, but mostly Chloe.
Since then, she'd run dozens of ops with hundreds of different people involved. She'd had her people on long term drug ops, international cases, cross continental, and had worked with everyone from Interpol right on down to the local one-sheriff town out in the boonies.
And she'd worried about all of them. Chloe under deep cover had been the hardest, especially when they'd lost track of her for a few days. Back then, her mother had been an unsurprising but unexpected comfort. Which was why Gail picked Elaine up for lunch.
"I'm perfectly capable of driving, Gail."
"You had a serious heart attack, Mom." Gail smiled and held the door open, at the ready in case Elaine needed a hand. Her mother, naturally, glared. "The doctor said no driving for another month, and so did Holly."
Elaine harrumphed. "She's the only doctor we'll listen to, and she's not even a people doctor."
"Do you want lunch or not?"
That was when Elaine looked up at the restaurant. "Schwarma? I'm not sure that's on my allowed list."
"It is if you skip the fries and falafel." Gail grinned and walked, slowly, with Elaine up the steps. "I did check first."
"It wasn't even my cholesterol," complained Elaine.
"I didn't even know you could have thin or misshaped veins," admitted Gail. But the occlusion had been caused by, essentially, a 'kink' in Elaine's veins. When Gail had been unable to sleep, after the surgery, Holly had sat up with her and read from her medical books about what had happened and why. Elaine's veins and arteries were shaped in a way that allowed plaque to build up. Part of her surgery had been to install teeny tiny tubes to straighten it out. The science was, even Gail had to admit, brilliant.
"You should get checked out."
"I plan on it. I need to embarrass my kid for years to come."
"She tolerates you more than you ever did me," said Elaine.
"Well I'm around more in a different way, Mom."
Her mother made a noise of understanding and regret. "Well there's a fuck tonne of guilt. I had wondered when my comeuppance would arrive."
Gail made sure Elaine sat down. "I'm not talking about that, Mom. Bygones. Chicken or lamb?"
"White meat, please. And don't get fries unless you're punishing me."
"Fine, but no tomatoes either." She went up to the counter to make an order, coming back with iced tea. "You never sent me or Steve undercover."
"Not my department," said Elaine. "Which sounds terrible."
"I wish it wasn't mine, so no. It doesn't." Gail shook her head. "She's under with Nick. Only nights right now. They're trying to get a lead to where our arsonist is."
"What's he after? Or she..."
"He. He was accused of killing his lover, who actually suicided, and UoT covered it up. Didn't want a big gay scandal."
Elaine made a face of disgust. "How'd you miss that — oh my."
One of the many things she loved about her mother was Elaine's lightning fast brain. Already Elaine had processed that Gail hadn't missed a damn thing. "Heads, or at least jobs, will roll."
"Are you following up on it?"
Gail shook her head. "Seabourn's hassle. And Dov's more or less." It was a relief that Gail didn't have to follow the pain in the ass politics. "Was I wrong? Turning down the job?"
Her mother knew which job without it having to be specified. She sighed and studied Gail's face. "I don't think so, no. Maybe Vivian will wander back down that road, but you'd be bored and angry in IA."
"Isn't that the truth," agreed Gail. "Steve would've been great at it."
"Steven... He lost his ambition when you leapfrogged him." Elaine looked amused. "I think he finally had to accept you were the gifted one."
"Steve's mediocre is still a billion times better than most people's awesome."
Elaine smiled a quiet, almost secret, smile. Proud. She was proud. Gail grinned back. "My point, sweetheart, is that you're not wrong to pick the right path for your happiness."
Gail tilted her head to look at her mother. "Holly's no okie."
"She's quite amazing, Gail." Then Elaine rolled up her straw cover. "I'm really proud of you. Both."
Gail felt herself blush. "It's harder when it's Viv," she said, avoiding one emotional topic for another.
"It should be. You like your friends and fellow officers, but you've sat up with Vivian when she had her appendix out."
They shared a smile. "I feel like I'm supposed to be more there for her now."
Elaine suddenly looked enlightened. "I see." She sipped her tea. "I don't have the answer you want, sweetheart."
Gail nodded. "I know, Mom." There was no simple or easy answer to her fears. "But... Talking to you about it... You're the only person I could trust." Because Elaine was the only parent of a police officer who had been in blue at the same time. Elaine was the only person who might understand the fears Gail was facing at the moment, the pains of a parent who knew, first hand, what could happen.
Quietly, Elaine nodded. She swirled her straw in the glass for a moment. "If I'd been here when you volunteered for that case, Gail... I suspect everything would have come to a head much sooner."
She blinked and stared at her mother. "What?"
"Frank let my office contact us. They were all in, ah, Harold's employ."
"Granddad was dead... Oh." Gail screwed her face up. "Well shit. When did you find out what happened?"
"When we came home, just before Detective Barber's funeral."
That had been an odd time. Gail had spent two weeks in the hospital. When Traci finally lured her out, her parents had just assumed that Gail was coming back to their house. As if she'd never been gone or nothing had happened. Gail tried to encapsulate that feeling. What if she was not aware of Vivian being undercover, kidnapped, and likely to be killed?
She shuddered.
And then she remembered. "That's when you got the second bedroom. I mean, you started using it sometimes." Her mother nodded, briefly. The claim had been that Elaine worked late and Bill snored. It had been specious at best, and they all knew it. But shortly after, Gail had moved out and stopped paying attention to the fact that, half of the time, her parents had separate bedrooms.
Her mother sighed deeply. "I did love him, you know. When he was the charmer, the sweet man he could be. But wherever I lost Elaine Armstrong along the way, he lost Bill Peck. He fell under the name. I thought Steve might, for a while."
"Oh, with the bribery?" Gail shook her head at her mother's surprise. "I know about Oliver's too, though I could never figure that out."
"It was the cover story." Elaine looked at Gail, amused and pleased. "Al needed it to convince the mob he was believable. Oh, how I miss when things were simple."
"Ugh, tell me about it." The conversation paused as the owner brought their food and told Gail his father said hello. Gail extended her well wishes to the family and smiled. "It's funny how long ago that was."
"Does Andy get the same adoration?"
"She's not really into schwarma."
Elaine rolled her eyes. "Wasn't that the case where Holly heard you were shot at?"
Gail blinked. "God. Yeah, that's the one that got her a talk from Ollie."
"Probably a good talk. He's good at those." She looked at Gail for a long moment. "The hardest thing is watching the people we love do this. Knowing they have the same passion we do for something so utterly selfless and raw. Something so dangerous. But they do. They need this, just like we did. And all we can do is step back and let them." Elaine paused and then lowered her voice. "You can do one thing I never could, and Vivian will be better for it. You can be there for her if anything happens."
Oh. Gail nodded and looked down at her food. She wouldn't, even if she could, erase the guilt her mother felt. Elaine had made her own decisions and even though Gail had long since forgiven her, the consequences lingered. They left their own scars, on Gail as well, just as Vivian's past had left indelible marks on her own soul. That was what life was like.
But Elaine was right. Unlike Gail, Vivian wouldn't be alone if the terrible things happened. She would have a mother to sit by her as she healed. Friends who would bring her food. A girlfriend who would take care of her.
Parental success. Something she actually had learned from her parents, if only as the inverse to their example.
"I understand," Gail told her mother, quietly. "Thank you."
Elaine nodded and they ate their lunch. They didn't have to say much more. They knew.
Working doubles wasn't fun. Vivian toppled onto her bed after kicking her boots off, and contemplated sleeping first and then showering. Five days into her case, including spending most of a weekend working to strip a car down, had gotten them closer to their goal. What they needed now was for Ally Chapman to show up. She was scheduled for that night's drop off, which was too soon for Vivian's taste.
Vivian sighed and curled up. Sleep. She needed sleep.
"Your Moms said you hated showers, but this is excessive."
She knew that voice. Vivian picked her head up and saw her girlfriend sitting in the window seat. "Hey."
"Hey. I'm stealing your electricity. The laundry room at my place flooded."
Vivian gave Jamie a thumbs up and put her face back on the bed. "Cool."
A moment later, Jamie tugged her arm. "Come on. Shower. Did you eat?"
"No," whinged Vivian, but she let Jamie haul her to her feet and shove her towards the shower.
"Want me to make you something to eat or order in?"
Vivian leaned on the door jamb to her bathroom. "It's entirely unhealthy, and it's inappropriate for breakfast, but I'm dying for Chinese."
"It's closer to lunch. When did you get back to the station?"
Frowning, Vivian looked at her watch. It was eleven. Ugh. "I have to be back out there by ten."
Her girlfriend looked amused and kissed her cheek. "I'll make you a sandwich. Shower. Eat. Sleep."
The plan mostly worked like that.
When Vivian met up with Nick again, the older man driving a rather keen Volvo electric, he laughed. "Nice bite, kid."
"Shut up." She slid into the passenger seat. "You're just jealous."
"I am. Of youth and resiliency. But that's the second time you've show up with a hickey. You should talk to your girl about hickeys where your shirts can't hide 'em."
"We are not talking about sex, unless you want me to ask my Mom for ammo."
Nick held up his hands and Vivian smirked. They weren't hickeys at all, they were legit bite marks. Which Vivian hadn't even known she liked until, hello, their third time. If you counted that first night as once, even though it was multiple rounds. Gail-math would call it one time. Holly would roll her eyes and admit she didn't actually keep score. But Jamie... Jamie was athletic and aggressive in bed. It was unexpected, but Vivian quickly found out that Jamie threw her all into whatever it was she did.
They were compatible.
"You ready for tonight?" Nick cut into her rather dirty thoughts about her girlfriend.
"We sell this car back, try to get in good with Ally if she shows up, and rinse and repeat?"
"Ah, not this car." When Vivian arched her eyebrows, Nick smiled. "This is too new. We need to steal an old Volvo."
Vivian sighed. "You mean I have to steal an older car. From...?" Nick held up a slip of paper. Vivian read it and looked at her partner. "I'm stealing a car from Gerald?"
"He actually owns the car. He's been trying to retrofit it since his step-dad died."
Oh. Vivian sighed. That was right. Uncle Al had driven a Volvo with all wheel drive. He'd let her drive it a few times. It was the third car she'd learned to break into. "Was that his idea?"
Nick looked confused. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
"His step-dad is— was Mom's god-father."
At least Nick had the grace to wince. "I forgot... Chief Santana looked so young."
Uncle Al had looked incredibly young, right up until his stroke. It was only a year after that, he passed away in his sleep. That funeral had been hard. Both Elaine and Gail had cried over it. That was the only time Gail had cried in front of Elaine, that Vivian knew of. Oliver had been despondent for days. The last call had been a packed house at the Big Building.
Sometimes Vivian wondered if Gail's would be like that. She'd asked Vivian to make sure it was at Fifteen, but only if she was still in blue. If. That was a strange thought. The older Gail got, the less likely it felt that she would die in the service. Pecks retired, and it was Elaine and Gail and Steve who made that possible.
"Drop me off at the end of the alley," said Vivian. "Go to the drive through and get some shitty food."
"Who, exactly, is in charge here?"
Vivian flipped Nick off. "Gerald's neighbors know he's a cop. If you lurk it'll be suspicious, dumb ass. Get me a burrito."
Nick rolled his eyes and dropped Vivian off as requested. "Don't get shot."
She flashed him thumbs up and pulled her hoodie up over her head. Between that, the leather jacket, and the black watch cap, Vivian knew she was good. She looked like a fucking criminal, but she was good. As she neared Gerald's place, she realized he had the fucking car in his garage. Shit. He couldn't have parked it outside for her? At least it was a barn door garage.
Vivian pulled on black latex gloves, the thick kind the CSIs liked to use, and carefully tried the side door. Locked. Vivian rolled her eyes. Fucking Gerald. She eased her lock picks out of her jacket and quickly popped the lock. Inside, she was grateful to see it was all set for her. No keys, but the door was unlocked.
Before she opened the garage door, Vivian checked the wiring. Security systems on a garage like this were minimal, and she knew Gerald would turn it off. But he was also the sort of idiot who might forget that his automatic lights were on. Vivian sighed when she found the automatic lights, and the security system. She carefully disabled them using Gerald's code. 4271. His fucking badge.
Thirty minutes later, she pulled up beside Nick in the burger shop. "Took you long enough." He held out a bag and a drink.
"Asshat had his security on. No burrito?"
Nick rolled his eyes. "Come on, sidekick. Let's go meet an arson supplier."
"I'm not a sidekick."
Lying on a yoga mat on the floor of her office, Holly stared at the tablet in her hands. She tapped the results from the last set of samples Vivian and Nick had brought in, skimming them enough to confirm her lab's conclusion and passing that on to Kelly. Then she pulled up her other records.
The results from the multiple casts she'd made after 3D rendering multiple variants of bones based on the measurements of skull indentations, had finally paid off. Holly had sweated it out, trying and retrying her experiments over and over, for a year almost, and at long last she had what had mathed out as an 81% probability. Which meant she had a strong match for actual bones in actual people.
She knew whose bones had been used to kill people.
And she knew who wielded many of the bones.
And she knew they were no longer using Bethany's bone, which meant her killer was likely dead.
Finally, decades deep, she had answers. "Hey, Siri. Call John Simmons."
The man picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Doc. Trujillo got your results from Kelly. Looking solid."
"I'm calling about our other case."
John was quiet for a moment. "Am I still ... That's still mine?"
"Well. You and I know more about it than anyone else. And... This may be an in person conversation, John."
He exhaled. "Let me pick up coffee and I'll come over."
Holly agreed, hung up, and rested her phone on her stomach. She didn't really want to have the conversation with John at all. She'd love to just file the case away and not look at it on so many levels. But. He'd stayed on the case for a reason. No one, not a single detective, knew the case like he did. And Gail had refused to pull him off, even after Bethany's involvement was discovered. Both IA and SIU had cleared John of all possible involvement. At this point, it would be impossible to find a detective of note in Toronto who hadn't touched the case. And it was OC's baby, which meant Gail could do what she wanted.
"Uh, Doc. You okay?"
She looked up at John. "That was fast."
"I was at the coffee shop."
Holly smiled and carefully sat up. "My back's been bothering me more and more."
"Perils of getting old."
"Sadly." Holly stretched a little and then walked past John to close her door. "Gail's suggestions of yoga are more and more appealing."
"She's devilishly clever, our Peck." John sat down on the couch and winced. "She also said I can keep working the case as long as I feel comfortable. Which is about as sentimental as she ever gets."
Holly took her coffee. "She means it, John."
"I know." He looked up at her thoughtfully. "You figured out who the mentor was? The ones who trained, or followed, Haan?"
He was smart. That was why he was family still. Holly sat down at her desk. She fired up her tablet. "They stopped using Bethany's leg bone just under twenty years ago."
"And the cars changed at least twice since then. I know her killer is dead. I've known. Just... You were looking into the uses of each bone."
Holly nodded. "The last use of her leg bone and the first use of the next have a strange overlap. I thought it was something with the compilations of all the files from the '80s being converted. Except we did those first and I checked them."
"Hang on. You got the old hard copy and checked?"
Blinking, Holly nodded. "Of course I did." Gail hadn't thought it weird when she'd come by Holly's office and found the boxes and boxes of old reports, and one harried intern typing it all in. "And I found another pattern. The targeted cars change before the weapon."
John looked thoughtful. "They use their predecessor's weapon of choice until they find the right one?"
"Exactly. Sometimes it's three or five kills in before a leg bone goes missing. So I found the first related case with missing thigh bones after the car change, and dated it as the last known use of her bone. And this is the devilishly clever part. They would put the old bone in place of the new."
"Oh." He frowned. "But you said missing."
"They usually took both bones, you see," said Holly, smiling. "Ms. Naomi Grainger, on the other hand, was missing one."
John screwed up his face. "Why not use Bethany's?"
"Based on the skull impressions, it broke."
"And someone would have noticed a broken leg ..." John startled. "You need a court order. We can exhume her." When Holly nodded, John twitched. "Jesus. Do ... No, you can't know who killed her."
"Ah, actually ..." Holly trailed off. "This is where it gets complicated."
"What part of this case isn't?"
Holly smiled at her friend and coworker. "It's a bit of the ball and cups game, I know." Tapping her tablet, she brought the notes up. "The killers are a little clever. They don't always switch over to their new vehicle right away, maybe feeling things out. But. They change. Taller, shorter, stronger, weaker. Their attacks change by the necessity of physiology. Which means I can find their first attacks."
"That's a good paper theory, but what if they're coached." John shook his head. "And just because Heinrich Hann died at the hand of his protégé doesn't mean they all did."
"True. Personally I'd want to make sure my apprentice got things right. And kill them myself if they didn't."
"So noted." John rubbed his lips. "You didn't measure the heights and weights of every single death to find likely suspects, did you?"
Holly nodded. "Of course I did. And I found some matches."
"Some isn't all."
"No. And some require a little more legwork." She pulled up a map. "I re-did my data of who killed whom, added in where, and I think we can reasonable draw a base of operations for each killer."
John took the tablet and read it carefully. "And based on the damage, you have the specs on our most likely killers?"
"Precisely. It's not perfect, but I think... I think if we find all the people who meet the physical criteria, we maybe can find a couple killers."
She watched John stare at the notes for a long time. The fact was that so far Holly had a lot of overlap. Too much overlap. On the one hand it explained why this had gone on so long and been undetected. Everyone was looking for a killer. They should have been looking for a dozen or more. Then, finally, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Email me all this? I'm going to see who we can spare from arson detail."
"Of course," said Holly, smiling as she saw how energized John became.
Handing back the tablet, John went to the door. "Hey, Holly?" He looked back, almost shyly. "Thank you." Holly canted her head at the detective sergeant, confused. She didn't need to voice it; she knew John would understand. "Sometimes it feels like everyone else puts this on the back burner. Like its forgotten. But you ... You never gave up. You kept working on this, for decades. And even if we never find out everything about the people who killed Bethany, we may find some closure for other people. So thank you."
Holly blushed a little. She wanted to demure, to brush aside the work, but then Holly remembered what Elaine always said. And she nodded. "You're welcome, John."
Wednesday.
A week of undercover.
Gail chewed the side of her thumb and waited for Nick and Vivian to slink in.
"You're like a nervous father at birthing," said Traci, chiding her.
"They made contact with Ally."
"Nick is good at this stuff."
"Nick got busted at this stuff and had to dry fire a gun at McNally's head."
On her other side, Andy made a face. "Thanks for reminding me. I nearly pissed myself."
"You should have hit him," said Gail, nibbling her hangnail.
Andy shrugged. "You gave him a black eye."
True. Gail sighed and waited as uniformed Vivian and Nick came into Andy's office. Not slinking. Vivian was grinning like mad and Nick looked ... It was a familiar look. Gail had seen it many times before when she'd bested Nick at multiple things. Oh. "She Peck'd him," said Traci, knowingly. Proudly. Happily.
"Gail, I hate your kid." Nick sat down and yawned. "When did she learn how to spew science?"
"You've met Holly, nimrod."
"He's mad because I'm smarter. You should have gone to college instead of the Army, dingus." Vivian grinned and slapped his arm, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Is Ger— is Officer Moore really okay with us stealing his car?"
Andy smirked at her. "Yes, Duncan's alright with it. He said his stepfather would have."
"Uncle Al," said Gail thoughtfully. "He would have handed over the keys himself." She sighed. Of all her dead family, extended and otherwise, she missed Al the most.
"He left his automatic lights on," complained Vivian.
"How about you tell us what you did to show up Nicky." Traci held out a coffee.
"She saved the entire supply chain about five hours of overhead and hundreds of money in waste by helping them come up with a faster, cheaper, safer way to drain the oil and then showed them how they could recycle the oil. Which is how we met Ally."
And Vivian beamed.
Gail rolled her eyes. "And while she was being brilliant, what'd you do, Collins?"
"Picked Ally's pocket and put a tracker on her cellphone." Nick turned to Vivian with an aside. "I still think the watch would have been better."
"She'd notice." To the detectives, Vivian explained. "She has a smart watch. Always tapping it. I think she'd notice if we put a tracker on it."
Traci looked thoughtful. "Hackable smart watch?"
"Encrypted. I tried sniping." Vivian shrugged.
"Technogeek," said Nick.
"Luddite," replied Vivian.
Gail smothered her laughter. "Okay, kids. Traci will keep tabs on Ally in the day. At night, see if you can get an invite."
"Oh that's easy," chortled Vivian. "She thinks my uncle Nico here is sexy."
Everyone turned to look at the blushing Nick. "She's young enough to be my daughter!"
"Work it," said Traci, firmly.
Andy pursed her lips but said nothing at all about it. Something was bugging the girl guide. Instead, she brought up the other topic. "For you, I have a lead on your video leak."
Nick looked up, interested. "Someone we need to watch out for?"
"Nope. He turned himself in yesterday. Peter's roommate was setting up the camera to video his own sexcapades later that day. Apparently the girl was into it, but they wanted it to look 'porno style' and set it up on a motion detector."
Gail took over the explanation. "Which naturally the boys accidentally triggered. The girl thought it was hot, which ew. Shared it with a friend of hers and so on and so forth until it was all over the net."
Both Gail and Andy were fairly offended by the whole thing. Gail, because she'd been accused of being the leak. Andy, because she didn't seem to appreciate pornography. Privately, Gail made a note to tell her about Holly's adventures as "Miss May" later on.
They finished the debriefing and sent the duo upstairs, with Traci, to connect with Trujillo. Gail waited behind. "Hey, Andy. Are you really okay with Nick hitting on jailbait?"
"No, but I kind of have to be." The sergeant fell into her desk chair. "That's not the ... That isn't my thing."
Gail hesitated. "I'm going to regret this. What's wrong?"
"My dad needs a liver. Or part of one at least."
Oh. "Shit, I'm sorry." Gail frowned. "Is he not up for transplant because he's an alcoholic?"
"They can't put him on the transplant list." Andy slouched. "I'm not a match."
Gail blinked a few times. A half forgotten conversation with Andy earlier that year came to mind. And then the one with Holly about Andy's eye color popped up. Brown eyes. Her mother and her father had blue eyes. Andy had asked about it before, but never ran the DNA tests. "I'm not a match for my brother either. It happens in families sometimes. Holly tried to explain it, but it was kinda boring."
Andy smiled thinly. "I thought you hung on her every word."
"I do, but if she's not super interested in a thing, even she can't make it sexy." Gail shrugged. "Do you, uh. I can ask Holly if she has any doctor friends in transplants."
"God, no. Gail, you guys did enough for us with Finn."
Gail winced. Finn, Nick's brother, had been committed. He wasn't doing well at all, and the temporary hold had resulted in long term care, as well as a termination of rights. Finn was now in the care of Nick. His younger brother had charge of all things, financial and medical. "I'm sorry about that."
"It's... Finn is Finn." Andy shook her head. "I looked it up, online. The ... The odds of me not being a match."
"McNally. It happens all the time."
"Did you know there are blood types that are impossible?"
"Uh. I'm pretty sure they're all possible."
"I mean... I'm AB and my dad is O."
Fucking punnet squares. Gail frowned and tried to remember that. "So... What? You're universal acceptor?"
"An O can't have an AB child. I Googled it."
"The Internet is bad for you, McNally." But Gail remembered the squares. "There's always the possibility of mutation," she offered, but neither of them really believed that.
"Sure, and that explains my eyes, too."
Gail narrowed her eyes. "Did you talk to Holly?"
"What? No! I've... God, I didn't want to. Why? What did she say?"
Gail shook her head. "No, no, never mind."
"Gail! We're friends!"
Shit. "Okay. Um. Holly noticed, ages ago. Your— Tommy has blue eyes and you have brown. It's possible but it's really unlikely."
Andy stared at Gail for a long moment. "Holly knew?"
"Suspected. I made her swear not to run your DNA."
Grim, Andy muttered. "So. He's not my father."
"You don't know for sure."
"I don't need the DNA test, Gail. Neither do you. You know I'm right."
Making it worse, Andy had been abandoned by her mother. They'd made up since, but... Abandoned by her mother to be raised by her not-father had to hurt. Gail sighed and leaned against the closed door. "He is, Andy. He's ... Look. He raised you. He took care of you. And yeah, he was a drunk asshole. But he loves you."
Andy sighed. "You think he knows?"
"Maybe. If I were you, I'd ask your Mom."
"Ugh. I wish Nick wasn't working all hours."
Gail winced. "Sorry. They should be wrapping up soon, if we're lucky."
"Gail." Andy sounded exasperated. "When have we ever been lucky?"
The killer looked nothing like Vivian expected. She'd seen pictures of him. Hell, she'd seen him giving a blow job thanks to the Internet and a leaked video. In person, he was just different. Something about the stance showed a boy ready to blow. They'd all be taught how to read people, how to try and interpret their motions and actions and words to understand intent. The Academy had been good for that, but so had her grandmother.
After Vivian had expressed her interest in policing, Elaine had changed their hangouts on the lake shore from abstract people watching to studying. She'd spent hours learning how to tell nerves from fear and from general malaise. And looking at Peter Hastings, she was reminded of exactly why people were afraid of white guys.
He looked like, if you handed him a rifle, he'd shoot up the town.
Vivian ducked back down and removed the filter on her latest 'stolen' car. It was one from Timmins, and it had to be shipped down, but thankfully it meant she'd had two days to catch up on sleep. Jamie was on the end of her three on, sleeping away her Friday, and planning to meet Vivian and Gail at the Penny on Saturday after the shooting match.
"Hey, junior." Nick's voice was quiet. "How's it going?"
"Last one done." She held out the filter and Nick took it, nodding. "Go charm her."
The older man nodded and headed over to Ally. Within seconds she was hanging on him, giving Vivian a perfect opportunity to watch Peter. He was simmering anger. And packing heat. The bulge under his sweater was unmistakable for someone trained by Elaine Peck. Striving for the casualness that Gail was brilliant at, Vivian pulled out her burner phone and sent a message to Trujillo. It was simple code, telling her that Peter was here and armed. Immediately she got a message back to keep him there.
"Hey, no phones," snapped Peter. "Who are you?"
"Petey, chill," said the owner. "Vicki's a runner from... She knew Sly."
Peter scowled. "No phones."
Vivian held her hands up. "Sorry. No phone." Hesitating a moment, she turned the phone off. That, in and of itself, was also a signal. Not being able to communicate meant they would send people in. Soon. Well maybe soon. It was only her phone. Nick's wire was still on. Only half a worry.
"What are you running from?"
"Ghosts," said Vivian. "You?"
"Me?" Peter scored. "How'd you know Sly?"
She shrugged. "The way most folks do. I guess." Vivian sat in the half stripped car. "Right now, I'm just looking for making enough dime to get out."
Peter sighed. "You can't get out."
"Not really sure I want to, truth be told. Maybe just some place a little quieter. Less painful."
The boy eyed her. "Is that possible?"
"If like to find out." Vivian looked up at him. "I don't think I'm getting any closer someways."
He fell silent. "Well you won't with the narc."
Vivian blinked. "What?"
"Nico. He's your uncle?"
"Not really, but y'know how that goes?"
Peter nodded. "He's a cop. I can smell it on him."
Shit.
Well there were a few ways to play that. Vivian scowled. "What? No way, he's had my back since — since the shit went down."
"Cops got Sly."
Vivian shook her head. "Come on, no way."
"He's wired. I can see it."
And Vivian stared at Nick. He was wearing a wire. She knew that. After a long talk with Trujillo, Vivian was not. They figured it was more likely she'd be searched. Vivian was the right age to fit in with Ally's gang. Maybe she was a little older, but she was a better fit than Nick. Vivian hesitated. Which way to go was a difficult choice.
Peter lifted his sweater. "Want me to...?"
Vivian eyed the gun. "No." She exhaled and stood up. "No. This is family." She strode over to Nick and slammed her palms into his chest. "What the fuck, Nico?"
Stumbling back a step, Nick's eyes widened. "What?"
"I'm asking you what, you ass." And Vivian grabbed his coveralls, yanking them down and pulling his shirt open. "You son of a bitch." The wire was there for everyone to see.
Ally gasped. "What the hell is this?"
Ruthlessly, Vivian yanked the wire, tape and all, off Nick's skin, shouting into the mic. "He's wearing a fucking wire!" Carefully Vivian did not step on it as she shoved Nick, hard. Dropping it, she stomped near it, and thanked the hell out of the acting classes she'd taken in college. "You traitor. You son of a bitch traitor!" And, just like Holly told her a year before, she drew back and slugged him hard in the gut.
Nick was, of course, prepared for it. She telegraphed it a mile away. And he went with it. "It ain't you, junior," he gasped, clutching his stomach. Vivian kicked at his feet, not enough to make him really go down, but enough to look good.
As she reared back for another kick, Peter grabbed her arm. "Get his phone."
"Right." Vivian shoved at Nick and dug his phone out, turning it off.
Peter took it out of her hand. "Ally, break it."
Without hesitation, Ally dropped the phone in the vice and shattered it. "If he's a narc, the cops have to be close. I'm sorry, Vicki."
Vivian ran her hands through her hair. "Shit."
"I may as well kill him," sighed Peter, pulling out his gun.
Everyone went crazy. Vivian swore. "Hey, woah!"
"You still want to save him?"
Vivian looked from Nick to Peter. Her persona wouldn't, but Vivian was font of Uncle Nick. "I don't..." She shook her head. "I'm a wheel man, not a killer."
Peter lowered the gun. "Tie him up."
That she could do. Vivian tied Nick up and hoped no one noticed his wife was still transmitting. "I'm sorry," he muttered.
"Shut up," replied Vivian, but she tied him loosely. He could get out if he tried
"New girl. You're the one who came up with the ways to pull out the filters and shit with less loss?"
Vivian blinked. "Yeah. Why?"
"Get me a filter, a pan of oil, and three sparks."
Immediately Vivian knew what was going to happen. A fire. She nodded and collected the items, along with a bag of rags. Under Peter's direction, she put together the little fire starter, along with a delay timer (something Vivian had not quite been able to figure out herself, not entirely). Meanwhile, Peter corralled the others, the owner and her crew, getting Ally to take their phones and locking them in her office and ripping out the landline.
"Right. We're done, Ally."
"Petey, we don't have to do this."
"Come on, don't be dumb. You know they're after me. Right, narc?"
Nick nodded. "They said they'd move me and junior out, get us away from here. New lives."
It was a good story, thought Vivian. "Jesus, Nico. Why didn't you tell me?" She shook her head, hoping she sold the lie.
"Don't ask him," advised Peter. "Light the fire."
Vivian hesitated. "What about me?"
Peter and Ally shared a look. "She can drive," muttered Ally. "And she's smart."
"Alright." Peter nodded. "Light the fire and come with us."
Thankfully she was spared lighting the fire (and a doubtful future), by the loudspeaker.
"Attention. This is the police. We have the place surrounded. We just want Peter Hastings."
Nick exhaled, relieved. "It's over, kid. Put the gun down."
"Shut up old man."
Any other day, Vivian would have laughed. "He's right, Pete. The last thing you want is a gun."
"What the hell do you know?"
Vivian arched her eyebrows. "I was there when the Hills went down," she said quietly. "They had cops as hostage. And Red didn't walk out."
Peter stared at her. "You... You're ... You're picking him? Even after he betrayed you?"
"He's family," she said. "Put the gun down. Please."
Unexpectedly, Ally jumped, grabbing the gun. They struggled over it, until Ally screamed and went flying one way, the gun the other, and Peter ran up the steps.
Within a heartbeat, four uniformed officers and three detectives burst in. "Jesus, that went tits up," snarled the world's most familiar and comforting voice. "You two okay?"
Vivian nodded at her mother. "I'm good." She looked at Ally who held her ankle sobbing. "He's unarmed." And she started towards the officers.
"Stay here." Gail's voice cracked like a whip and Vivian recoiled. Her body came to attention. "Take Ally to the bus. MacLean is outside. Keep her safe."
Vivian nodded, reflexively. "I... Yes, ma'am."
But Nick had a brain. "Where are you going?" He rubbed his wrists and let Rich finish untying his feet.
Gail looked up the steps. "To stop a suicide."
Talking people down was something Steve was better at. He was calm and collected and funny when it was needed. Gail sighed and sat down on the building ledge, looking down at the ground. She had to lower the bar. Peter alive was more useful for her closing the case properly, which was horrible. Except there were two cases. The arson case was easy. Gail wanted the damn school to rot in hell, and for that she needed Peter's help.
"How'd we come here, Peter?"
He wiped his face, smearing dirt along the tear tracks. "I'm jumping. I don't know what you're doing."
"Trying to talk you out of it."
"Who are you?"
"Gail. Peck. I'm one of the cops you were shouting at. And yes, Nico and Vickie are two of my UC ops."
"You've been on to me?"
"Months, Peter. Just making sure we had the evidence lined up."
"Damn it... How did you know?"
"It's my job to know this stuff, Peter." Gail gestured.
"What would you have done if I still had my gun?"
Gail looked at him, thoughtful. Honesty was needed here. "I would have waited you out and made sure you were out of bullets first."
He stared at her."You'd count shots?" Gail nodded and Peter sighed. "Shit. I thought only tv cops did that."
Gail shrugged. "My parents made me learn how to do that stuff. Count shots. From multiple guns. It's pretty useless, in so far as normal life goes. But for a cop, it's helpful."
"Jesus, your parents were sick fucks."
"True." She leaned forward. "My father stopped talking to me when I came out." Peter startled. "He asked me what he'd done wrong, as a parent, and never really accepted it. He was also a race purist, didn't like multiracial families, so falling in love with a woman who happened to be a little Moorish didn't help."
"Moorish?"
"Southern Spain, dark skin." Gail absently checked her gun in its holster, as unobtrusively as possible.
Peter turned away. "So they sent you here cause you're gay too? Like you know what it's like."
"Actually they wanted me the hell away from this case because I'm gay." She looked down at the street. "I didn't have any problems, except my dad, when I came out. Well and one ex-boyfriend. He got over it."
Sneering, Peter stepped closer to the edge. "You don't understand at all."
"No. Not like you do. But I do understand this. Your whole life, you've been pushed around for being different, treated differently. People's expectations of who and what you were trapped you. And then finally you found someone you connect with, that got you, and it all made sense. Finally you felt like you. And it happened to be with a guy." She shrugged. "I get that. I really do. And now… Now they want to erase Toby being gay from history, erase the boy you loved, because they're afraid of shame. And they want me away from the case because they know I'll put it out there."
Confused, Peter swayed side to side. "I don't get it."
Gail nodded. "It's confusing. They know I sympathize with you, Peter. And because I understand why you're doing this." She paused. "Well that and I don't give a fuck about embarrassing them. That's not my fight."
"What is?"
"Answers."
Peter looked more confused. "How is that a fight?"
"You're fighting for it right now."
He frowned. "I want the truth."
"Okay." Gail took a deep breath. "The way I figure it, the school lost their biggest athlete in decades. Suicide. Toby was under an incredible amount of pressure from the school to succeed, his coach was a raging homophobe, and he was in love with you."
There was a noise and Gail noticed Peter was crying. Her earpiece sprung to life. "Gail, the coach confessed to Mayhew," said John. "Said he knew Toby Gale was gay and threatened to cut him if he didn't drop his, I'm quoting here, 'fag fan.' Good luck."
She wished she could thank John aloud. Gail waited a moment more, to be sure Peter wasn't going to ask anything. Then she went on. "The coach threatened Toby. Wanted him to chose. You or the team."
"He loved the team," said Peter, his voice ragged.
"And he loved you, Peter," said Gail softly. "He couldn't give either of you up."
Peter hitched a sob and covered his mouth. "He gave us both up."
"Well. That's his asshat coach's fault." Gail heard John confirm that one.
"Why stop me?"
"From jumping? The coach."
"I don't... I don't understand."
Of course he didn't. He was too wrapped up in his own pain to realize that others felt that way too. Gail exhaled softly. She was going to have to use him, focus Peter's pain to something that could change the world. It wasn't the kind thing to do, and it probably wouldn't help him directly for years to come. But it was the right thing to do for everyone. "The coach and the school pressured an athlete into suicide. And then they tried to cover it up. They convinced the parents not to press charges, while blaming you, and they kept the top detectives in the city ignorant of the reality. You're mad, and that's understandable. But you attacked the wrong people. I want to see them go down hard, Peter. And I need your help."
The boy stared at her. "Me?"
"You're the victim here."
He looked astounded. "Me?"
"You." She nodded. "You were set up for this. They were going to blame you for encouraging the suicide. Especially now that the tape hit the news."
"Tape?"
"Video." She grimaced. Shit, Gail was getting old. "Someone put it on Vine."
"Oh. God." He hung his head. "Ally said ... Is she okay?"
Gail waited for someone on her earpiece to confirm before answering. "Broken ankle but she's fine."
Peter nodded. "I'm sorry."
"Anger makes us do stupid things. But it's not too late. You can come down, come with me, and we can make things right."
The sun set, finally, and the lights from the city illuminated their patch of rooftop. And Gail waited. Make the wall smaller, make a connection, and keep them talking. Now she had to wait him out.
"If I go with you, what happens?"
Gail looked up at the evening sky. "You come to the station. Confess. Agree to testify against the school for their big gay coverup. I'll get you a reduced sentence. You'll do less time for the pure arsons, but the murders... " She shook her head. "You killed people, Peter. I can't just let you go."
He nodded. The young man, barely a man, leaned over the parapet again. The tips of his shoes in the wind still. "Does it ever get better?"
"Some of it. Sometimes. You get better."
"I miss him."
"I would too." Gail tried to picture what she would have felt, had Holly actually left for San Francisco. Or worse, what if she'd died? A murder spree of all the Pecks involved sounded plausible. She stood up and held out a hand. "If you jump, then that's it. No more pain for you. But it won't get better. It'll always be what it was." Gail paused and added, "The school won't change without your testimony, Peter. You can make it better for everyone who comes next."
Peter sniffled and rubbed his nose on his jacket arm. Then he nodded and took Gail's hand, stepping down off the ledge. "I can do that." He held out both hands. "I surrender."
The moment Gail walked in the Penny, Holly had her arms around her and kissed her. Someone wolf whistled. Holly could have cared less. Gail sighed softly. "I'm fine, Holly."
"I know." Holly cupped Gail's face in her hands and studied her wife's face. Gail actually was okay. A little tired and wired, but okay. "Happy birthday."
Gail's lips quirked and she kissed Holly's cheek. Taking Holly's hands, Gail tugged her to the table where Vivian was sitting talking with Jamie. Or to Jamie. The firefighter looked a little daunted. "Wow," muttered Jamie. "You weren't kidding about the PDA."
"Mom worries," said Vivian, pushing a drink towards the empty seat that would soon be Gail's. "You didn't hug me like that when I came in."
"Hey, I worried." Jamie caught Vivian's hand and frowned a little. "We were watching the whole thing on the news at the station."
Vivian smiled. "I wasn't in any danger."
"You saved that girl's life." Jamie leaned in and kissed her softly. "You're kinda a hero."
As Holly arched an eyebrow, her wife laughed. "At least I had my vest on," pointed out Gail, taking the drink.
Jamie startled. "Vest?"
"You can't wear 'em undercover," Vivian said quietly, shooting Gail a glare. "I'm fine. Honestly. Not even a scratch. No one fired a single shot at anyone. They just wanted me to set a fire and kill a bunch of people locked in an office." Vivian paused. "Okay, a gun did go off, but that was accidental."
The shorter girl scowled. "We're going to talk about this later, Peck."
"Good luck with that," sighed Holly. She was amused as Jamie turned Vivian's face and said something quietly. Vivian was pure Gail when she rolled her eyes, muttered 'oh fine' and kissed Jamie.
Gail laughed. "Lisa's right! It's totally annoying from this side."
"Stop," said Holly, smiling at her wife. "They'll take years off your life, Jamie."
Brightly, Jamie pointed out the obvious. "I reciprocate."
"It gets worse." Holly rolled her eyes. "One beer, Pecks."
Both Vivian and Gail lifted their bottles in salute. "One drink," they agreed.
Jamie frowned. "What'd I miss?"
"Mom's birthday. We've got a shoot off."
"You were serious?" Jamie looked from Gail to Vivian and then to Holly. "They're serious? They just took down an arson supply chain, arrested a serial arsonist who was exacting gay revenge all over the city, and they're going to the shooting range?"
Vivian repeated. "Mom's birthday. She's done it since she was 17. 34 years—"
"Hey! No one asked for math, nerd!" Gail scowled but she wasn't angry. After all this time, everyone knew when Gail was really mad. Holly poked her wife's ribs though and cautioned her with a look. She could tell Gail was letting off a little steam, but Holly didn't want it to be in her daughter's direction.
"They're insane," said Jamie, looking a little mortified.
Holly nodded. "I'm resigned to this. Your girlfriend there cried when she was fourteen because we wouldn't let her shoot."
"Mom!" Vivian flushed. "Seriously?"
Gail giggled and high fived Holly. "Fair play, kid! Come on. I booked the range, Nick, Andy, Dov, and Traci are waiting for us. You know how to shoot, McGann?"
Quickly Vivian jumped in. "Say no. Trust me."
But Jamie and Holly did come to the range, watching the shoot and keeping score. Vivian came in a close third behind Traci, and Holly had to explain how the competition was for second, since Gail was still the queen of target shoots. And then there were hugs and promises for a brunch and goodnights and Gail teasing Vivian to be safe and Vivian telling Gail to enjoy an empty house.
And then there was home. Finally.
Holly took her time making sure Gail really was alright on every level. From bumps and scrapes to jangled nerves, Holly took inventory of her wife. It was slow and careful work, quietly savoring every inch that was her wife. Way, way, way back, she'd realized that just dating wasn't enough and she wanted to live with Gail. And then not having some commitment, something to keep them together, wasn't enough.
Now, after decades, it still wasn't enough. It probably wouldn't ever be enough. Holly would never get enough of the achingly sarcastic blonde, her morbid wit, her sharp edges. Older and wiser they may have been, but they were still a quirky scientist and a grumpy cop who just clicked and made each other happy.
After she made sure Gail was perfectly fine, Holly watched her wife drift off into an exhausted and satisfied sleep, lips curved up into a half smile. It was a precious thing, watching Gail sleep. Smiling, Holly settled down only to find that sleep was eluding her.
That was abnormal. She usually was good about sleeping through the night. Her parents had joked she was the easiest baby on the planet, able to sleep hours at a stretch and wait patiently for the parents she seemed to know we're coming. The only time in her life Holly had trouble sleeping had been when she went through menopause. As soon as that passed, she was back to sleeping properly.
By contrast, Gail was the uneasy rest. As a child she'd thrown her toys (with unerring aim, per Steve) at people in order to be removed from her prison and attended to. As an adult, at least by the time Holly had met her, Gail slept sporadically and inconsistently. Part of that was due to her work hours. The majority was from the trauma she'd survived.
But now, Gail was sound asleep. Naked and curled up under the quilt Lily had sent them before they'd married, Gail's mouth was slightly agape, eyes scrunched closed. Her hair, currently closer to red-gold than platinum, was long enough that Gail could brush it behind her ears, and it tickled the collar of any shirt she wore. Crows feet crinkled the corners of her eyes, skin was starting to sag more visibly, and Holly was well aware of both the stretch marks and the grey hairs that had finally made their appearance.
She sighed and gently ran her fingers through Gail's soft hair. Her wife stirred a little and smiled. "Did you forget to put a shirt on?" Gail's voice was rough and scratchy from sleep.
"No." Holly smiled and kissed Gail's forehead. "I don't know why I can't sleep."
"Worried about me. And the storm." Gail snuggled deeper into the blanket.
"What storm?" Holly waited for an answer and, when none was forthcoming, rolled over to put on her glasses and turn on her tablet. The weather app proudly told her that a storm front was about to hit the city within an hour. "You suck."
Gail smiled. "Yes." She stretched. "You're sensitive to pressure changes. And stress from me being shot at."
Holly sighed and put her tablet back down. "It's still terrifying."
Sitting up, Gail reached over and brushed the strands of Holly's hair that had escaped her braid. "I know. And I'm sorry."
"We're not going to have a serious talk about how I hate you being in danger when you're sitting there topless." Holly gestured at Gail's boobs with her index finger.
"Wasn't trying." Gail smirked. "I'm sorry things got out of hand, Holly."
Holly nodded and took off her glasses, lying back down. Right away, Gail snuggled up along side her. Comfortable. Safe. "The definition of your job is when shit gets out of hand, they call in a Peck." Gail didn't reply and Holly sighed. It was the world she'd married into. The world she'd fallen into. The woman she'd fallen for.
Absently, Holly caressed Gail's bare back. Her fingers swept the smooth skin, tracing the curves of Gail's body and bones. She had, at some point over the years, memorized the pattern of Gail. Holly knew every single aspect of Gail's body. There was a nearly permanent dry patch of skin on Gail's left elbow and a scar on her right foot from the time they dropped the fridge door doing home renovations on their own.
She knew the way Gail's muscles moved under her skin. Holly loved the way Gail felt, wrapped around her, skin to skin, and how she was warm and soft when they relaxed on the couch together. There was the way Gail held her breath for a tense moment before an orgasm. The lazy smile afterwards, when all that tethered Gail to the world was Holly.
"Damn it. Gail. How come every time I think about you, I end up thinking about sex?"
"I'm a sex goddess," said Gail, flippantly. "And we have a very physical relationship."
"For someone who hates being touched, I've often wondered how that happened."
Gail propped herself up on one arm. "I met you. And everything started to make sense." She leaned in and kissed Holly's jawline. "I wish I didn't scare you."
"You don't," said Holly firmly, cupping Gail's pale chin in one hand. "You never scare me." She paused. "Okay, no, you did once. When you got mad and threw your phone."
Her wife sighed and slouched a little. "I'm sorry." That was a different level of sorry. The first kind was the reluctant sort of someone resigned to knowing she would always put her wife in some pain. The second was deep regret and guilt.
Holly hushed Gail and ran her thumb over Gail's lips. "Hey. We talked about that. We're a team." Gail bobbed her head a little. It was two decades and she still felt a little guilty. Nothing Holly could do would erase that. But it had been a long time since anything had been remotely that bad.
Turning her face, Gail pressed her cheek into Holly's hand and closed her eyes. There seemed to be a million thoughts going round and round in Gail's head, but she stayed silent. Holly sighed and gently drew Gail back down, settling the paler head on her shoulder. As Gail draped an arm across Holly's waist, she finally spoke. "I had other options, but this was the best one. The one than ended with more people alive."
Sighing, Holly nodded. "That's why I'm scared, but not mad. I trust you."
"Even when people shoot at me?"
"Would you have followed him to the roof if he had his gun still?"
"What? No! Not like that."
"See?" Holly smiled. "You're smart."
"I have this woman I'm in love with. Kinda wanna come home to her."
"For the sex."
"No." Gail paused. "Well. Yes. But everything else too, Holly."
Holly smiled and kissed Gail's forehead. "I know you, Peck. Behind that bitchy façade, you care about everyone."
"Mostly me. And you. And our kid. Mostly me."
"Mostly you," agreed Holly. "Whatever makes you happy."
Gail laughed softly and rubbed Holly's hip. "You make me happy."
"Mm. Good. Then I'm doing it right."
The hand moved inward from her hip, suggestively. "Am I?"
Grinning, Holly turned to her side. "It's a promising start."
After the birthday shoot, Vivian hugged her parents and then let Jamie drive her home. The firefighter accepted the invitation to spend the night rather quickly. Christian, as promised, made himself scarce, but Vivian really didn't care. The rooms were far enough apart, after all.
For the night, she just cared about forgetting a busy, drama filled day. A long day that had been far too stressful. A whole night and a day with a standoff and shooting and now, finally, something relaxing. Afterwards at least.
Vivian closed her eyes and played with Jamie's hair, smiling in the enjoyable sensation of pleasant lassitude from afterglow. Endorphins were a wonderful thing. The warmth of Jamie's head near her shoulder was equally wonderful. They didn't tend to sleep all up in each other's business, but more nearby. And still, this moment— no these moments relaxing with a girl in bed, they were still novel and cherished. It had been hard to relax enough to sleep with her other girlfriends. There was just something else about Jamie, about someone who'd been through some of the same shit, that made it weirdly safer. Easier.
"How long have you been shooting?" Jamie's voice was quiet. Had Vivian not been awake, she might not have stirred.
"Since I was twelve." Vivian opened her eyes and peered at her girlfriend.
"Oh. Isn't that... I mean... Your... You know what, I'm gonna shut up and not spoil the mood." Jamie drew a finger across her lips. "Zip. Which... You can't see because it's dark."
"Actually my night time visual acuity is off the charts. Mom— Holly was annoyed. I think she wanted me to need glasses."
Jamie laughed a little. "Really?"
"She didn't want to wait for Gail to need them."
"Gail has glasses?"
"Reading. Her mid-range is fine. Distance is starting to go odd, though. Her shooting glasses are prescription now, but I think it's just the tint and not actually magnification."
"Ah." Jamie pressed her face into Vivian's shoulder. "Sorry."
It took a moment to catch on. "Oh. No, it doesn't make me think about my birth parents. It's a different..." Vivian frowned and tried to think of how to explain it. "See. Gail made guns safe. It's not the weapon, it's the person. No one should have sold him a gun in the first place." She'd never understood that part. Maybe she could ask Gail about it later.
Jamie made a noise of understanding. "I get it. Gail and Holly are pretty awesome."
"They are. I love my moms a lot."
"Hot too."
Vivian laughed and pinched Jamie's side. "Never call my moms hot when you're naked in bed, you hose monkey."
Squirming away, Jamie giggled. "Why does Gail call you a monkey?"
"Oh. There was a time I got a little clingy... Long time ago. Holly was in the hospital, sick."
Jamie sat up, holding the sheet to her front. "Sick? She's not like... Terminal?"
Vivian shook her head. "She was exposed to Luongo River Fever. It's related to Ebola." She saw Jamie's expression shift into terrified. "She didn't have it. Her assistant did. Died of it. Mom just had .. Something else. I forget what. Anyway, it was most of a month, she was in isolation. Gail was trying to keep her shit together and not scare me, I was freaking out because they hadn't adopted me and I didn't want to go live with my grandparents. Then Holly got better, they adopted me, and we all lived happily ever after."
For a moment, Jamie looked down at Vivian, thoughtful and curious. "You have had an exceptionally weird life."
"True." Vivian propped herself up on her elbows. "Why are you over there?"
"You pinched me."
"You called my moms hot, which actually is a mood killer." Vivian tugged on the sheet.
Jamie tugged it back. "Hey, it's not my fault Gail looks like a fucking model. And Holly has this total hot librarian thing going on."
"See, now you actually sound like my moms! Mood killed!" Vivian rolled over, turning her back to Jamie, but she grinned. Of course Jamie was right. Her mothers were incredibly attractive and had aged amazingly.
Silent, Jamie snuggled up to Vivian's back, wrapping an arm around her waist. She planted a kiss to Vivian's shoulder. "Monkey."
"Moooood."
Jamie laughed into Vivian's shoulder. "Peck." Somehow she managed to make her last name sound endearing. Jamie's hand ran down her side. "I like you."
Smiling, Vivian scooted back, closer. "You're a warm big spoon."
"You know firefighters. We're hot."
After a brief pause, they both burst out giggling. "That's terrible, Jamie. Oh my god. Now I'm totally not inviting you over for Christmas."
The arm around her tightened. "You guys have a real Christmas?"
Something was odd in the way Jamie said that, and Vivian craned her neck. "Real? Like what? We don't do carols and shit."
"I mean a tree and presents."
"Uh. Yeah. Doesn't everyone?"
The head behind her shook. "Not since Dad was arrested on Christmas, no." Jamie sighed. "Can I come over? I've kinda always wanted to have a Christmas." She sounded shy, like a young girl afraid of rejection.
"Of course you can." Vivian rolled over to look at Jamie thoughtfully. "Of course you can." She brushed her fingers over Jamie's face. Family was family. Wanting a better family than she had was understandable. "Matty's coming too."
"Hm. Is Christian?"
"No. He's going to see his Mom. Which is just psycho, but he loves her."
Jamie reached up and caught Vivian's hand, kissing her fingers. "I like Matty. He's fun."
"I'm glad. He's kind of my best friend."
Grinning, Jamie turned Vivian's hand over and kissed her palm. "Can we shelve talking about BFFs and parents for a couple hours?"
"Oh that's optimistic," said Vivian, smirking. But they did put talk of other things aside for the evening.
After all, Vivian had saved a girl's life and her mother had talked a killer from a suicide. It had been a stressful and successful day.
There's a bonus chapter to this season. A very Peckish Christmas. But this is the end of the case. Everyone came out alive and a bit of a better person.
And hey, look at Vivian kind of cuddling!
