04.02 - Takedown

A break-in at a secure lock box in a bank leads to a shocking historic discovery.

After a fluff (mostly) chapter, let's get into the serious case of the season! This will be Vivian's first full season in ETF. What kind of trouble could she get into anyway?


The only way Gail had to describe it was 'weird.' "You think it was a practice run?"

"I think he didn't find what he was looking for," said Nuñez.

A month prior, there had been a break-in at a secure vault in downtown. The presumed thief had broken four drill bits before the alarms chased him off. The bits had been traced back to a few mundane places and one specialist. Everyone had been excited when the specialist had ID'd their prime suspect... and then disappointed when it became clear the suspect wasn't it.

Being in the hospital, treated for terminal cancer was a really good alibi.

But the more she looked at the case, the less sense any of this made.

"Did we get the warrant for what was in the boxes?"

"Only some of the owners agreed." Pedro pulled up a chart. "Jewels, passports, papers. The usual stuff."

Gail grimaced. "Well that doesn't help us at all."

Pedro looked apologetic. "We did get the names of all the owners. I'm running checks on them all."

"All?" Gail arched her eyebrows. "That's a lot of work."

"Well... Um. I prioritized the ones the perp— UnSub targeted, and the ones around it."

When Pedro stopped Gail huffed. "How about you also compare the name of the targeted boxes and run them against the others. Find connections. The UnSub went after two specific boxes. Both owned by the same person. So find the thread. Savvy?"

Pedro nodded and started to type. "Uh. Now?"

"Yes, Pedro. Now." Gail resisted the urge to pat his head and walked over to Trujillo's desk. "You finished the theft over at the penthouses?"

"Uh, yes, yes ma'am. I did."

"Good. Work with Nuñez on this. In fact... move your desk over."

Trujillo stared at Gail. "Oh. Yes, ma'am." Then she looked at her current partner, an uninspiring older detective who'd been around longer than Gail. "Sorry," mumbled Lucinda.

As the youngest detectives sorted out the new arrangement, Gail huffed at her minion. "You mind flying solo, champ?"

Derek Mayhew shook his head. "Nah, she was ready. I thought you'd do that last year, to be honest."

"You two were working well."

Really it had been because Pedro was doing so well. He'd been excelling until the Safary case the year before. The fear of terrorism was messing with his head, apparently. It had given him a case of crippling self-doubt. On the other hand there was Lucinda, who had grabbed some high profile case and run with it. She'd been a shining star.

So Gail did the most logical thing she could think of and she paired them up.

Time would tell if this was a good idea or not.

Leaving her detectives to sort themselves Gail went to the range at the station to unload her feelings in general. Much like yoga, shooting was a constant in her life that helped calm and relax her. Most people didn't feel that way. Most cops didn't. Practicing with a gun was just what a cop did to get good and pray it was never needed.

To this day, Gail had never shot a human being. She'd shot at five, but she'd never hit them. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, if she was being honest. On one hand, Gail was embarrassed to have missed. On the other, she was grateful to never have killed anyone. That was something impossible to take back. Death was final. Death was forever. It was bad enough to be the indirect cause of a death, but to also be the actual direct reason? No.

Gail pushed that out of her head and took up a spot at the middle of the range. Settling her glasses on, Gail checked her gun. This was the greatest constant in her life. It was a fond memory, the one of coming to the range the first time with her mother. Perhaps it was the best memory of her youth and Elaine.

When the light switched, Gail focused on her target. All Pecks shot. Some were better than others, but all were expected to train and be excellent. Be better than everyone else and don't screw up. They were Elaine's words, her mantra, but Gail clung to it as a child. It terrified her and she'd obsessed over the idea of perfection.

At some point, after she'd thrown up following a shoot due to the flu, Gail stopped letting the pressure get to her about shooting. She knew, then and there, that she would never be good enough to please her father. It didn't stop her from trying, but she did just let it go with shooting. They could take everything, but she had that. Even if they didn't care, she had shooting.

Years later, when she'd found Holly and felt her life shift, Gail remembered the same desire. Let them take everything else about her, but leave her Holly. Leave her that one thing.

The memories faded from her front brain as she shot. There was just a moment. Gail concentrated but also relaxed. It was a curiously zen state of mind, a balance between the unwavering attention needed and the slow, steady heartbeat of calmness. See the target. Eyes wide open. Focus. Fire.

By the time she'd burned through two clips, Gail felt refreshed. Her mind had cleared out the fluff and as she absently tallied up her score, a thought occurred to her.

If she was breaking into vaults looking for things, it would have to be important. Big. Not a huge money score but more a personal experience. Something meaningful. Papers and passports were still incredibly easy to forge and fake. There was no need for a thief to steal them. Rarely did people keep their useful valuables in safe deposit boxes anyway, they were a thing of the past.

An archaic relic.

Gail dialed a number as soon as she was out of the range.

"Hey, Trujillo. Do me a favor and just ask the owners of the boxes if they have antiques stored in there, okay?"

"Sure, boss. You think our go-getter is after old money?"

"Something special." She paused. "Also find the youngest people on the list. The ones who moved in recently."

"Copy that."

Gail made a face. "God, don't talk like TV, Trujillo."

Her detective laughed. "Sorry. I'll work on that. Anything else?"

"That's all I got. Call if you need me, I've got meetings with the brass."

"Lucky you."

Gail really didn't mind the meetings. They were still mind numbingly boring, but they changed her day from normal weirdness into something else. Change, as Holly said, was inevitable. It happened, like it or not, to everyone. But the changes made her appreciate so much more about life. So a couple hours of meetings? They made Gail appreciate everything else about her job.


Her wife was distracted.

With her head down, glasses slipping down her nose, eyes fixed on the laptop, Gail looked adorable and studious. She'd come home before Holly and ensconced herself in the easy chair, typing away with some ridiculous reality tv show in the background. There wasn't even food in the oven or the lights on in the rest of the house. It was just Gail, staring at her screen. Her hands barely moved.

Holly did not try to distract Gail. Instead she went upstairs to put away her own laptop, hang up her work jacket, wash her face, and then came back to sort out dinner. Contrary to everyone's jokes, Holly enjoyed cooking and did it well. Gail was just better at it, and she'd be a fool to not let her wife take charge.

There were many things that Holly was, but a fool she was not. A wise woman, Holly picked out some thawed meat, seasoned it with curry and other spices, and threw it in the broiler. Then she mixed up an easy salad. Gail would want something else for a side, so she threw a pair of potatoes into the microwave. It was cheap and easy, but it worked.

The true potato fan of the family was Vivian. The girl loved her potatoes, to the point that it flat out confused Holly. She'd never known anyone to ask for potatoes at every meal. But given the food issues young Vivian had come to them with, she didn't push. The kid ate potatoes, and would eat anything with them, then so be it. She ate asparagus, liver, brussels sprouts, and a hundred other things kids hated, but only if potatoes came along side and she could eat them in the same bite.

Weird child.

Mixing food together was something Vivian had learned from Gail. It was her first week with them when the warning from social services, that Vivian was a bad eater, became clear to them. She wasn't a bad eater. Vivian was hungry and wanted to eat, but she was a nervous eater. She was just a skittish eater. Vivian wasn't picky, she was uncertain of the rules, unwilling to eat a lot, and nervous about something.

They'd theorized a lot about why. Was she hit? Was she starved? Was she just not encouraged? The gentle questions they'd tried had resulted in shrugs and a polite request to be excused, Miss Gail or Miss Holly. Finally Gail, being Gail, simply asked if Vivian had tried mixing the food together.

Enlightenment dawned. Vivian actually looked at how they ate, how Gail often finished first and stole food off Holly's plate and got seconds and laughed. The girl watched more. And then she tried a bite of fish with the potatoes. Slowly, slowly she started eating more. Eventually she started asking for specific food (potatoes, God, always potatoes).

Holly smiled as the microwave beeped. She carefully prepped the potatoes, wincing at the steam burns from them. There was no sound from Gail. Holly shook her head and made plates, with salad and her knock off London broil, and left them on the kitchen table to go disturb her wife.

"Hey, honey? Food?"

It took a moment. Gail slowly looked up, turned her head, and smiled sheepishly. "Did you ... huh. Can I finish?"

"Ten minutes or an hour?"

"Two. Minutes. Tops."

"Carry on. I'll get a stout."

By the time Holly had poured two glasses of dark stout, Gail had divested herself of her jacket and glasses. "Hi, beautiful," said the blonde, and she oozed in for a hello kiss.

Holly smiled into the kiss, unsurprised when Gail's tongue gently ran across her lower lip. "Food first, Flash," she told her wife, pushing Gail away playfully.

Gail didn't like the nickname. "Just because I have to eat lots," she muttered. "This smells great."

"It's not much, but it's a meal."

"I didn't even notice you cooking, sorry." Gail pulled a chair out for Holly and kissed her cheek before sitting down. "I'm playing connect the dots."

"Make any headway?"

"No. I think I'm stuck until Wayne or Ananda have results on my drill bits and bobs."

That rang a bell in Holly's head. "The vault cause? Is that yours?"

"Trujillo and Nuñez, actually. I'm just... it caught my eye."

Holly smiled. "Let the kids learn, sweetheart."

"There's something odd about it. They're looking into all the people. I'm trying to figure out if our UnSub hit the wrong bank."

"So you're comparing all the other banks in Toronto with vaults and trying to figure out what's in the other boxes?" When Gail looked abashed, Holly laughed. "I love your devious mind, Gail. Did you actually get a warrant for that?"

"No," said the blonde, petulantly. "I asked the banks very nicely, and in the interests of security, they agreed to contact owners. Four of which replied."

"Out of...?"

"Couple hundred. I limited myself to just this Bank and locations with similar layouts." Gail huffed and cut into her meat. "Even then. I'm looking at a couple dozen possible likelies. So I'm hoping your minions of minutiae are able to come up with something good."

Filing away the title for a later date, Holly pursed her lips. "I can tell you the drill bit would have never worked. You need a diamond carbine bit to get through those."

"Jesus, if he uses an Armstrong bit, I will never hear the end of it."

Holly laughed and sang. "Make it strong. Make it Aaaaaarmstrong."

Gail flipped her off. "S'good food. Curry?"

"Thank you. Yeah, I rubbed it and broiled it. Not too tough?"

"No, no, you nailed it." Gail grinned and tucked in. Good food always ended conversations and Holly was okay with that. Gail closed her eyes and forgot to talk, instead enjoying the hell out of a meal.

Seeing her wife, her grumpy and irascible wife, delight in the simple things of food was always wonderful. Gail was so enthusiastic about what she enjoyed, it always made Holly feel happier. It was impossible not to reciprocate that kind of emotion. The flip side of course was Gail in a dark mood resonated with pretty much everyone.

That reminded Holly of the time Nick called Gail a psychic vampire. She didn't suck the emotions out of people, she projected them. The problem had been that, for so long, Gail had an unsteady relationship with her own feelings, and only was capable of expressing them when her guard was down. Like drunk. Which was why younger Gail called herself a sociopath.

"I like you, Gail," said Holly, grinning.

"Convenient." Gail pushed her bangs out of her face. "What'd I do?"

"You're my sociopath."

Gail made a face. "Women are so, so confusing."

"Don't lump us all together. Frankie is very simple."

They both laughed. "How's she doing with Mac Mac?"

"They came to the wedding. I think the kid saw her," mused Holly. She tapped her fork's tines on her lower lip. "How long do her relationships normally last? Frankie's I mean."

"Couple weeks."

"This has been since summer." Holly arched her eyebrows and Gail mirrored the look. "Methinks Det. Anderson is smitten, Inspector."

Gail laughed. "Oh man. Oooooh man, I'm gonna love giving her shit over this."

"Yeah? Figure out how to keep her yet?"

Rolling her eyes, Gail took a bite of potato and meat together. "No," she growled around the food.

Holly made a face. "Ew. Don't talk with your mouth full!"

"Ideas welcome," muttered Gail. "How'd you get Scarlet Witch to stick around?"

"Offered her a better deal. She wants to invent more than manage, so I got her that." Holly shrugged. "It's about listening to what she wants, offering what you can, and making her feel wanted and needed."

"See now we're back to women being weird."

"You said confusing."

"Same thing." Gail crinkled her eyes and smiled sadly at Holly. "Frankie's family is... Not ..." She shook her head. "My family sucks. Her's was pretty abusive in a more direct way."

Holly blinked. "They hit her?"

"Her mom did. Once, I think. She only said the once, at least. Mostly it was screaming that she wasn't really gay." Gail dragged her fork through the meat juices left on the plate. "Frankie sticks around because my knucklehead brother is her first real friend. Him, Bibby, and Frankie were a pack... Bibby and his sister were beaten, Steve was ... well, Steve's a Peck. And Frankie was just like 'em. She felt like she wasn't alone."

Sighing, Holly leaned back. "She needs to belong."

"Yeah. And protect people." Gail rubbed her forehead. "I dunno, Holly. We're all getting old. Maybe this is a stupid idea and I should just let her go."

There was a point. They were all old. Too old to go running into buildings and chasing gunmen down. Too old to stand in the front lines. Holly looked at her wife thoughtfully and asked, "How come you're not so stressed about the idea of you retiring anymore?"

That surprised Gail. "You'll laugh."

"Probably."

The blonde smiled. "Viv." She sounded abashed. "It's... She's my legacy." Gail's voice was nearly a whisper of a mumble.

Oh. Holly smiled and reached across the table, resting her hand on Gail's. "A lot of that Division, a lot of the police force... Your legacy is that too."

"Yeah. But Viv? She saved my name."

Holly shook her head. She knew what Gail meant, what she felt. After all, the year before she'd told Vivian that the girl made the name Peck a better one. "No, honey. You saved the name Peck. You did. Vivian's just following you. You made it better."

Gail looked up, her blue eyes were wet. "Holly..."

"You didn't do it alone. Don't get a swelled head."

Gail blinked and then laughed softly. "I know. I had you. You make me better." She squeezed Holly's fingers. "Thanks."

"I cant imagine anyone else being as supportive as you, honey." When Gail looked confused, Holly added. "You let me double down on my career and raised a kid with me. You're pretty awesome."

"Hey, I would never deprive the universe of your brilliant mind." Gail smiled and patted the hand, letting go. "I think I know how to trick Frankie into sticking around."

"Oh good. Do you want to tell me or surprise me?"

Gail's saturnine smile was all the answer she needed.


It would be ages before the sound of her mother's urgent voice made her think first 'case' and not a mad scramble for what could she have possibly done wrong. "Jules! Roll out. Hostages at TC."

The room froze and then scrambled. "What've we got, ma'am?" Jules was incredibly calm.

As Vivian pulled on her over shirt, she heard Gail snarl. "Two bank employees being held hostage in the safe deposit vault by an armed robber. Best part? There's a bomb."

Oh. Vivian looked over, not at her mother, but at her boss. "You heard the Inspector, Peck. You'll go in with assault. No pen cam."

"Copy," she said coolly. She didn't feel cool. The tight grip of terror had her gut. Defusing a bomb with the assault crew was fine. Hostages though, was terrifying. Civilians lives.

And Vivian was going to be down a few tools. No Rover first since there was an armed perp on scene. No pen cam since penetrating cameras didn't work in banks.

"Do we have eyes on?" Jules was already in his kit, minus the helmet.

"Cameras are out. Tran'll meet us there, I'm riding with you."

Oh. Holly was going to have a conniption. Vivian wanted to speak up, but thankfully Jules did it for her. "No way, ma'am. If we have to unload and roll, you'll be in the way."

Gail snorted. "I've done it before."

"Yeah, before you had stars on your shoulder."

Studiously looking at her kit, Vivian tried to hide the smile on her face. She knew how annoyed Gail had to look just then. "Are you saying I'm old, Jules?"

The sergeant sighed. "I'm saying you'll be in the way, Peck."

The tension in the room fizzled as Gail snorted again, this time a laugh. "Damn, I hate getting old. Come on, Jules, let the kids suit up."

As the two senior officers left the ready room, Vivian leaned on the locker wall for a moment. "You okay there, Peck?" Sabrina buckled her vest on.

"No. Scared shitless."

Sabrina knew this was Vivian's first run with civilians. "I've seen you do this kind of thing without tech before, Peck. You'll be fine."

"You gonna babysit me so I can take the bomb out without getting shot?"

"Nah, we'll clear it and get you in. No worries."

Vivian sighed. "You make it sound so simple."

"I'm not the one who breaks into safes for fun."

"The one time," chuckled Vivian. She'd demonstrated safecracking for fun and profit. But Sabrina's teasing had the desired effect. She felt calmer. "I'm good."

"Yeah? Text your girl."

Oh right. Vivian pulled her phone out and send Jamie a message, telling her she was headed out and would be safe. Jamie's quick reply was that Vivian should keep her promise, and to let her know when Vivian was done. That was it. Vivian exhaled and pulled on her vest, then her neck protection. The rest could be applied on site.

When she'd been a child, bomb suits were huge, unwieldy things. Then in the late 2010s, Russia had come up with a comfortable, flexible bomb suit. The layers of foam and Kevlar had given way to advances in science. Advanced suits had become too heavy and too hot. Having to wear a liquid cooling undersuit, and then a massive overwhelming SCUBA was stupid. But the Russian invention didn't protect against pressure waves.

Thankfully, by the time Vivian had come around to the business, the Americans had taken up the challenge laid out by Russia and made better bomb suits that protected her from percussive damage and fit much like regular clothes. Like. Much of it was too unwieldy for an assault, so it came in the van and Vivian would pull it on if needed.

Most of the time, though, she didn't. Most bombs were easy to scan and handle without a need for the massive super suit they called an ABS. Advanced Bomb Suit. People made stupid names for things. Today, knowing she would be with or on the heels of the assault group meant no ABS. No fishbowl helmet. No smothering outfit. No sweating buckets in a too tight pair of long underwear that was supposed to cool but didn't.

It upset Holly at first to see how little Vivian wore, but after going over the schematics with her, the scientist agreed. Vivian was safe. Safer than Gail had been when Sue saved her live twenty years before. Safer than thousands of soldiers had been. Safer than Vivian would have been five years ago.

When they loaded into the van, Vivian sat with the tactical assault team. The lone member without a rifle. She had her handgun, but on her arm was her elaborate communications computer. It pinged and she read the output. "I've got a scan," she said quietly, and stared. "What the fuck?"

Sabrina leaned over. "Hang on... The bomb wasn't set by the robber?"

"No, he's got a drill." Vivian said slowly. Everyone was looking at her. She could feel it. "The bomb is inside a safe deposit box. The robber set it off while he tried to open a different box. He's holding he hostages..."

She trailed off and stared. Seriously? It didn't fully say why the robber was holding hostages, but Vivian could read between the lines.

Sgt. Julian Smith picked up the thread. "He's holding hostages in order to save his ass. He wants a bomb expert."

He wanted Vivian.


"Clear," announced Vivian over the radio. "Bomb is safe."

Gail let go a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Jesus, fuck. That kid'll be the death of me," she muttered under her breath.

"Bomb is safe. Repeat, bomb is safe." Jules looked relieved as he announced it to the assembled. "Damn she takes years off my life. How the hell are you alright with that?"

"Therapy," replied Gail. "Can I have my moron please? Now that the bomb is safe?"

Jules smiled. "You want him here and now? Not back at a nice warm station?"

"You think I'm standing out here on a fucking freezing January afternoon for my health? I wanna know if this asshole is the same guy who hit up Scotia bank last month."

The sergeant looked unconvinced. "You really think he's that stupid?"

"He set off a bomb in a safe deposit box. When will evidence be there to collect it?"

"Hour. Maybe. Peck's got it safe. She'll be in there until they show up."

"Okay. I want to see it when it's safe enough for mere mortals and not indestructible children."

"You got it."

Gail walked over to where they held their suspect. He'd not given a name and his fingerprints had come up empty. That didn't mean too much. A lot of people had no prints in the system, even after years of encouraging parents to print their kids. It was still seen as giving up personal information to the dangerous police.

The suspect was wrapped in a thermal, heat reflective blanket. Cuffed to the ambulance, he looked sullen and pained. His hands were under the blanket though, which always made Gail a bit nervous. Behind the man sat a young EMT named Barrow. Vivian had mentioned him as one of Mac's protégés, which spoke well. Gail caught Barrow's eye.

"I'll be right back," said the man, nodding at Gail and letting himself out.

The suspect eyed Barrow. Then Gail. "Who the hell are you?"

She ignored the question. "Hello, Mr. Doe," said Gail, before blowing on her hands. "You warm enough?"

"Eh." He scowled. "This a special ambulance for criminals?"

"Are you a criminal?"

They exchanged a look. That was how this was going to go. "I want a lawyer."

Gail smiled. "As soon as we clear the scene and get you to the station, sure. You haven't been booked yet, though."

"Oh so I can just go?" He rattled his wrists. "I know my rights. I want. A lawyer."

"Do you have one?" When the man startled, Gail went on. "A lawyer. Do you have one? If not, I'll contact the solicitors' office and we can have one meet you."

The man stared at her. "If I tell you my lawyer's name, you'll know who I am. Nice try. I want my phone call."

"Yeah, that's not actually a thing," said Gail with a shrug. "Not like TV." She turned to the officer guarding them. "Did we get a phone off him?"

The officer jumped and the familiar face of Christian Fuller looked at her, cold and red. "Uh, no ma'am." He dug into a pocket. "The techs haven't gone over the evidence yet, but it was... uh. No wallet, no real ID, no phone. A cheap dollar store watch."

A watch? Gail frowned. "Oh, you were timing the depth of the drill rather than go by feel? Or were you timing how long you had before the rent a cops showed up?" She rooted in her pockets and pulled on warm gloves. "I gotta give you props for how you snuck in."

The fake ID of someone who had a nearby box, arriving with a suitcase that contained the drill. The bank did use an metal detector on the person, but since the ID matched, the key matched, and the passcode matched, they just checked the basics. Idiots. Gail suspected a change in procedure was about to happen. Like an X-Ray machine.

"Lawyer."

"I mean, targeting older banks who haven't retrofitted for full body and box scans? Brilliant. Except I don't think you were targeting them like that. The box you hit? It was the same as another box someone hit a couple months back." She smiled at his stunned expression. "We'll getcha that lawyer, Mr. Doe."

Gail gestured at Barrows, who clambered back in. All EMTs were prepared to handle unruly and dangerous suspects. Barrow was clearly considering this man to be one. As Gail called up the Crowne's office to get a lawyer and get them on the same page, she saw the evidence van pull up and Ananda Ames herself roll out. Damn they were fast.

That was Holly's influence. Time mattered, after all. More than one case had been lost due to the disintegration of evidence. "Hey, Inspector!" Ananda waved. "Wanna come with me?"

"Why Dr. Ames, I thought you'd never ask."

Ananda turned red. "If I didn't know you were married to my boss..."

Gail smirked. "I have it on good authority that Trujillo is still single, though I did assign her a new partner."

That perked up the evidence co-lead. "Think she needs celebratory drinks?"

"Maybe consolatory." They stepped inside and Gail exhaled. "Fuck it's cold. Where the hell did global warming go?"

"This is what happens when science defeats humanity." Ananda nodded sagely. "Beat global warming, it gets colder."

Gail flashed her ID and walked down the hall. "I know you know that was rhetorical."

"Honestly, I'm never quite sure with you."

They entered the back, then followed the posted guards to the safe deposit vault. Vivian was standing, helmet and heavy protection off, studying the various open boxes, one of which was highly damaged and bent, as if a pry bar had been used.

"Break something, kid?" Gail asked.

"Funny." Vivian glanced over and grinned. "Bomb. Drilled. Prised." She pointed at three boxes. "Buddy boy drilled into this one, which structurally is the weakest. Then he tried to slide a pry bar through it bomb one to pop this last open. Only that didn't work so while he was waiting for us, he fucked around I guess."

Gail frowned. "How is that one weak?"

"Has to do with how they build 'em. There's always going to be some under extra pressure, making it more friable or breakable. He knew this column was under the most strain, so he could drill it and pop the door off. Once he did that, it was easier to slide through from behind than go in from the front."

"Clever," said Ananda.

But Vivian shook her head. "I don't think so. Anyone with even a term of structural engineering would know how to find it. And this is your repeat offender, right Mo— Inspector?"

The slip was not unnoticed. "Right," said Gail, as if she hadn't heard her daughter nearly call her mom. "Please tell me you learned that in school and not from the Internet."

"Oh, its on there if you know what to look for," chirped Ananda, taking photos. "I concur with her assessment, though. Look at the scrapes here and here."

There were hundreds of scratches. "Yeaaaah I just see scratches," said Gail. She turned her attention to the bomb's box door. "Oh, he tried to pick the lock."

"Wouldn't you?" Vivian shrugged. "Wit said they all heard it and when he popped it open, they saw it. Chri— Fuller confiscated their phones, but no word on social media."

"I've got eyes on that." Gail tried to reconstruct the scene. "Who the fuck puts a bomb in there?"

"Mr. Ernst Hoffmann," said Vivian. Also owner of this..." She tapped the box their burgled had tried to pry open.

"Hoffman owns both? Who told you that?"

"Some idiot labeled them." Vivian opened the bomb's box door and showed the inside. "That's gotta be a security issue."

Gail covered her face with a hand. "Jesus. This is the sorta day that goes from bad to fuck."

Behind her, Gail heard Ananda ask, "What kind of scale is that?"

"Peck scale of how much paperwork are we gonna have to fill out," explained Vivian.

"Oh. What's the max point?"

"Screaming wordlessly into the void. Here, you want a picture of this." Vivian gestured to the bomb. "It's circuit based, so the slim jim popped the connection off and set the bomb active. Thank god it was just meant to blow if moved. No timer, no remote blow. It was just there to ... dunno. Deter, or maybe protect? That's your fun, Inspector."

"I just want to see what they were hiding. Can you get it out?"

"Sure." Vivian patted the top of her robot's head. "Bobby the Bomb Bot can carry the charge. Just in case."

"You seem pretty cavalier," noted Gail.

"I wouldn't have okayed you two in here if I wasn't sure. All set, Dr. Ames?" Vivian popped the top of her robot open.

"You're just moving the bomb? Yes, I'm good."

Vivian nodded and reached in, carefully removing a computer device and then a hunk of plastique looking stuff. "Just based on the tech I can see, I think this has been in there since the late 2010s."

"That's a long time," said Gail under her breath.

"I'll know for sure in a couple days." Ananda watched Vivian carefully. "What's that?"

"Dunno. Pretty dense and stable though." Vivian put the plastique stuff in its own part of the robot. "Alrighty. Dr. Ames, you want to do the honors?"

"I'll leave that to the professional."

Vivian shrugged and reached in again, pulling out a small lockbox. She put that down on the table Ananda had cleared and went back in. There was a smaller box, and another. "This is like a Russian Nesting Doll," muttered Vivian.

"Well." Gail scratched the back of her head. "We can open them back at the lab. They're evidence. Can you open that one?" She pointed at the one the robber had been after in the first place.

Her daughter smirked. "Of course."

"Is that legal," asked Ananda.

"Crime scene. Half opened. Yeah." Gail waved a hand. "My order."

"You know," said Vivian as she studied the door to the broken safe deposit box. "I seem to remember this lecture on the ethics of following unlawful orders."

Gail smirked. "Sounds familiar. Who gave that one?"

"Some retired superintendent. I think she used to work in IA." Vivian paused and reached in from the side, popping the lock and letting the door swing open. "Voila."

All they could see was a long box. "That's big." Ananda took some photos. "Okay, all good.

Vivian nodded again and slid it out. "It's not locked."

"Go ahead," said Gail. She watched as it was popped open and a wood box was inside. "A painting? What the hell?"

"Presumably. I'll take this in then, and your jolly bomb bot."

"Bobby," corrected Vivian. "Bobby the Bomb Bot."

Ananda rolled her eyes. "I'll never understand why you adrenaline nutters name things. Shoo. It's all up to me now. Send me a bodyguard."

"That's our cue, kid. Call me when you have something, Ananda."

"Always." The evidence expert bent to her tasks and Gail and Vivian walked out.

Gail sighed as they walked back down the hall. "So. What do you think, Viv?"

Her daughter frowned. "Our robber was after that painting. But he didn't expect the bomb... or maybe he did and that was his idiotic way to defuse." Vivian scratched the back of her head, just like Gail did. "Unluckiest damn idiot on the continent, though."

"That's true. How come his drilling worked this time?"

Vivian winced. "Oh you will absolutely hate this one."

And Gail knew. "Ah shit, he didn't, did he?"

"Make it strong. Make it Aaaaaaarmstrong," sang Vivian.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The great detective is distracted," said Holly as she walked past Gail for the seventh time.

Gail didn't seem to look up, but an epitaph fell from her lips, followed by a single word. "Naked," said Gail, almost stammering.

Holly picked up her tablet. "I forgot my books." She waggled the tablet.

"Uh. What time—" Gail looked at her laptop. "Fuck. I'll be there in a minute."

"Take your time. I've got the last Clash of Kings." And Holly stretched out on their bed, yes naked, and proceeded to read the final book in the series.

Half an hour later, Gail came in. "So fucking gay, Holly," she announced.

"You've made my lab cry again, you know." Holly marked her place in the ebook. She was in no rush to find the end of the series. Her interest in it had waxed and waned with the years. It was hard to keep passionate about such a series when it was a decade between books. How could some authors churn out masterpieces twice as long in a year, and then others...

Well. It wasn't fair to compare him to fanfiction authors.

Closing her tablet, Holly watched Gail. The blonde looked awestruck. That happened sometimes. Nothing made Holly feel more confident about herself than when Gail forgot how to talk. "Honey, take off your clothes and shower."

"I know that," snapped Gail, sarcasm shaking her out of her stupor. "I was admiring."

"Like what you see?"

"Very much," Gail said sincerely. Then she winced. "Fuck. I'll be right back."

Holly arched her eyebrows. "My plan is not working," she muttered and got into a worn shirt and boxers. The thudding downstairs told her Gail was getting something food. Ah. She'd forgotten to eat enough. Holly went to the top of the stairs. "There's a protein shake in the fridge, honey."

"Thanks!" A few moments later, Gail came back up and pulled her shirt off. "I hate when I forget to eat." The cop paused. "Aw man, you put clothes on."

"I do that when I sleep. I was waiting for the lotion to dry."

Gail looked dejected. "I missed lotion?"

"I asked. You said in a minute." Holly got into the bed and marveled at Gail's stunned expression. "Gail, I went in to the office seven times."

"Jesus... Were you naked all those times?!"

Holly laughed. "Oh honey." She pointed at the bathroom. "Go shower."

Complaining all the way, Gail went to shower and came back a few minutes later, hair spiked up and messy, bare ass naked. "For the record, I have no memory of the six other times."

"So I gathered." Holly patted the side of the bed and Gail slithered into a slinky nightie before oozing in beside her. "Crack your guy yet."

Gail snorted. "Funny, cause he's a safe cracker. And no. He's in lockup. Won't tell us a damn thing. Won't tell his lawyer. We're running his DNA but... he's worse than the blue guy."

"Was that the guy who had the dye pack?"

"Mmhmmm." Gail nuzzled Holly's neck. "Hey," she said softly.

"Don't get ideas, Peck," said Holly and she yawned.

"It's your fault. You showed up naked." Gail's arm wrapped around Holly's torso, pulling her closer. "I don't want to talk about work."

Holly reached over and tapped her lamp, turning it off. "Go to sleep Gail."

"Kay." That Gail didn't put up a huge fight said quite a lot about her mental state. The pressure of the bank heist, ineffective though it was, was quite a bit smothering. Gail had a lot of responsibility on her shoulders.

The comfortable weight of Gail's sleeping body settled in the bed and Holly drifted off, listening to her wife's deep breathing.

While sleeping with Gail was ultimately very calming, working with her was not. The case of the bomb behind the box was driving Gail batty and, in turn, she was making the lab nervous with her hovering. They had, finally, gotten the legal authority to open the painting's case. Presumed painting. All they were waiting on was an art restoration expert, to make sure they didn't hurt whatever was inside.

After the youngest lab tech dropped a test tube and nearly cried, Holly made a decision. "Gail. Go away." Holly ordered and pointed out the door. "I'll call you when the expert is here."

There was a brief pause. Tension hovered. And then Gail got up. "Right." And she stomped out.

A very quiet voice spoke up. "Should I go, ma'am?" Vivian carefully put her tools down.

As one, half the lab spoke up. "No."

Holly smiled. "No, you're fine."

Vivian nodded and went back to taking apart the bomb with the techs. Every single screw was carefully removed, photographed, and labeled. It pleased Holly that her daughter was one of the only cops calm and patient enough to actually sit and do that kind of work. Most ETF bomb techs hated the post defusing deconstruction. They were, by and large, adrenaline junkies.

While Vivian certainly was as well, she loved the time consuming patience it took to go through the parts. Holly's lab had, first, started to trace the explosive component itself back to the source. They'd delayed taking apart the actual bomb, waiting for the rest of the evidence to be processed, in the hopes of checking out any trace contamination and being able to rule that out.

At the same time, ETF had been busy working on scanning all the other vaults in the city, trying to make sure that there were no other bombs. That required a lot of work adjusting the penetration scanners, and it was still a little spotty in banks. As it should be. The whole idea of the banks was security and protection. What they'd come up with was a scanner looking for the electrical signatures of the bombs.

Of course there were a lot of bombs. And now every bank in Canada wanted that kind of scan. Vivian's passing comment was that it wasn't her gig, thankfully. She just had to mock them up a second bomb to use as a dummy and perfect the scanner with. That meant a safe dismantling of the entire bomb, a through and through study of everything inside, and a full understanding of the entire situation.

That had led to Vivian being ensconced with the lab for the week. And Gail? Well she just haunted the lab and grumbled. A lot.

"She's like a dog without a bone," said Ananda, who was working with Vivian.

"I'd take offense, since that's my Mom, but…" Vivian trailed off. "Screw 68, top left panel." And she rattled off the tension required to remove it. "God, I feel like I'm handling Apollo One."

"Is that the one that blew up?"

"Yeah." Vivian rolled her shoulders and there was a pop sound. "They ended up taking apart a second module, just to make sure everything matched."

"God how boring." Ananda shook her head. "Can we get the plate off now?"

"Think so." The officer stared at the bomb and carefully reached in and removed the plate. "I hate doing this with gloves on."

"You know what they say, Peck. No glove, no love."

There was a pause before the room cracked up. "Don't get ideas, Dr. Ames. I'm taken." Vivian put the plate on the map. "Wow. Okay, I changed my mind about the age."

Ananda leaned in. "Oh. Wow."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Between the two of 'em, they have 10 years of college education. And all I get is 'wow' as a descriptor."

Her daughter looked up. "Pretty sure we have closer to 14 combined."

"And I never took a writing class. Did you?" Ananda eyed Vivian after taking a photo.

"I took an acting class. Dr. Stewart, it has a built in wifi blocker. The mini kind that Lingonberry came up with before I finished college." Vivian reached in with needle nosed pliers, the kind coated in rubber, and gently eased it out. "Passive blocker. The presence of an active, scanner signal triggers it on."

Stunned, Holly blinked. That meant the bomb was relatively new. No more than 6 years if they were being extremely generous.

She looked at her daughter — no, no, Holly looked at the expert. There was only one thing she could say.

"Wow."


Digging her thumb into Jamie's shoulder muscle, Vivian smiled as she heard the relieved groan. "Jesus, Viv, I give you a million years to stop."

"It might be that long if you don't relax," chastised Vivian, and she pushed again.

"Sorry." Jamie mumbled the apology and Vivian could feel her try to relax.

It really wasn't working all that well. Jamie carried her tension in her shoulders and upper back, which was part of why her dislocated shoulder had been so problematic. And of course, after a shoulder was dislocated once, the muscles could slip and do it again. Some of Jamie's ongoing therapy involved extra stretches but also Vivian helping out with a massage now and then.

The problem was that Jamie just didn't physically relax well. She always needed to be doing something unless she was asleep. It could be reading or watching TV or her new habit, writing. But she needed the stimulation. The original plan was for Jamie to sit at Vivian's feet, while Vivian sat on the couch, and they'd watch a soccer game.

The game, alas, was canceled due to a thunderstorm. Which meant it was up to Vivian to relax her girlfriend.

"I ever tell you how we met Celery?"

Jamie craned her neck back. "Is this a prelude to why you know how to do this shit?"

"It's related."

Her girlfriend sighed. "Fine. Tell me."

"Once upon a time, a million years ago when Ollie still had hair and Gail thought she was straight, there was a woman who bought a love potion."

"Seriously? Celery bought a love potion? I mean... her name is Celery, so..."

"Hush. As it happens, Celery made a love potion."

"Oh that makes much more sense."

"If you keep interrupting, no more massage and you get to use the heating pad." Vivian paused and waited to be sure Jamie was going to be silent. "Anyway. It wasn't a love potion you drink, you were supposed to bathe in it. And the woman got upset it didn't work, so she stole something from Celery."

"What a bitch," said Jamie. "Shit, sorry."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Celery filed a police report, which is how she met Ollie. And the woman, like a moron, drank the potion and ended up in the ER. So they had to go find Celery and arrest her, only Celery had proof it wasn't a drink potion and the woman's guy showed up at the ER so all that ended happily. And Oliver? He got her number."

"That's cute."

"Gets better. Remember Holly told you about when she kissed Gail?"

Jamie laughed. "Yeah, and you made out with me behind the coats at John's wedding."

"That was Ollie and Celery's first date."

There was a pause and Jamie made an 'aww' sound, as if seeing a cute puppy. "Wait... how does that translate to you meeting her?"

"Ollie had to give Gail a ride home. Apparently she was so quiet in the car, Oliver worried and Celery told him she was in love. Flash forward a couple months, my idiot moms made out in interrogation, and Celery totally called it. After Gail fessed up to Ollie, he was their biggest fan."

"That's really sweet."

Vivian smiled and felt the muscles under her hands actually relax. "And you, my dear, are relaxed."

"Oh..." Jamie rolled her shoulders. "I feel a lot better."

"You're welcome." Vivian leaned forward and kissed the juncture of Jamie's neck and shoulder.

"Mmmm. That's nice too."

Vivian wrapped her arms around Jamie's shoulders. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Jamie leaned back. "You don't have to, you know."

"Have to ... What?"

"Hug me. I know you're not..." Jamie waved a free hand and then put it on Vivian's arm. "Cuddly."

That was true. Vivian sighed and rested her cheek on Jamie's head. "I dunno. It's ... A lot of the time, I feel stifled. Like I can't breath enough." She kissed Jamie's hairline, above her eyebrow, before letting go and leaning back in the couch. "Even my moms."

Jamie turned slightly and looked up at her. "I just meant... You don't have to. I like being around you."

"I know." Vivian sighed. "I just feel like... I never really explain this." She twisted the hem of her shirt. "Because it's different with you sometimes. Sometimes, like at night... with everyone else, it's too warm and too cramped. Stifling. And then... then there's this thing that happens with you, and it's like a warm blanket is draped over me, and it's .. We're not touching, but everything's okay for a while."

Her girlfriend leaned into her a little, almost touching. "Just ... Just me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, McGann," she said in her most Gail voice. And Jamie laughed. "Moms too. Sometimes. And Pia, once."

"Pia was the artist?"

"Yeah, I fell asleep on her on the couch at Moms. Which was weird." Vivian wasn't sure about how it had happened. They'd been watching a movie and then Vivian came to that blissful half-aware state where everything was peaceful. "I'm screwing this all up," she muttered.

"No, no." Jamie out a hand on her knee. "I like the hugs, but I don't want you to feel all tense. Specially when we sleep."

Vivian scratched her ear. "That's the thing... when we sleep it's different than when we're awake." Not totally different. Vivian didn't always like being cuddly on the couch. Often. She didn't often like it.

"You know." Jamie sighed and stood up, dropping onto the other end of the couch. "When you sleep, your feet look for me."

"Huh?" Vivian stared at her girlfriend and then her feet.

"You'll be hugging your pillow, all happy, and then suddenly I'll get two freezing cold feet on me."

Vivian hesitated and then actually giggled. "Oh my god, I'm sorry."

"I think it's cute," said Jamie, and she reached over, tugging at Vivian's feet. "Come 'ere, copper, and I'll warm those tootsies."

Rolling her eyes, Vivian did put her feet in Jamie's lap, and was rewarded with Jamie sliding her feet under Vivian's legs. "It's still weird. Being in the lab all day."

"Oh thank god. New topic! Yeah, how's it going with your moms?"

Vivian smiled. "Holly kicked Gail out of the lab." When Jamie looked shocked, Vivian waved one hand. "It's happened before. She— Gail gets impatient and gets on people's nerves. She just wants the painting checked."

Jamie shook her head and pressed her thumbs into the arch of Vivian's foot. "Is it a painting?"

"X-ray says so." Vivian closed her eyes as Jamie's fingers found the pressure point behind her ankles. "We can't open it without an expert around. And the insurance company."

"Oh that's right! Technically someone owns it!"

"Someone we can't find. Pain in the ass. Which is why Gail's being all Gail about it."

Jamie snorted. "I thought you were joking about her being scary, but yeah, I saw her just rip one of the captains apart at a fire last year."

"That's my mom," sighed Vivian. "The bank is all pissed off that the owners can't be contacted."

"Is it a fake ID — Sorry, I shouldn't ask that."

How odd. Vivian frowned. "I forgot... you know, Moms have the same, er, security clearance at work. So they could always talk to each other. And then there's the whole Peck thing..."

She would never forget the day Steve sat down to ask Vivian if she wanted to know. Did she want to know about Gail, what the cop was doing, and what it might mean. And did she want to know and never tell anyone outside their circle. Jamie was, definitely, outside the circle. Shay wasn't. Maybe she should talk to her cousin about those things.

Jamie studied her face. "Your family has been cops forever huh?"

"More or less. There's an actress on Elaine's side, and then the Howlands, Bert and his sister Lydia, who..." Vivian hesitated. "They married in, before the turn of the century, but before that, they helped solve a decades old murder."

"Really? How cool!"

"Yeah, the Howlands made me kinda regret I got rid of my middle name."

"Oh?" Jamie chewed her lower lip. "What... what was your old name?"

For some reason, it wasn't hard or painful to answer this. When her cousin had accosted her about her birth name, it felt like her heart was in fire, in a bad way. But this... this was just Jamie asking to be let in a little. That was, after all, how the light got in. Open the door a little. "Vivian Lydia Green. Lydia was my biological paternal grandmother, and she scared the hell out of me as a kid so. I like Stewart better."

"What's Holly's middle name?"

Vivian smirked. "She doesn't have one. It annoys the hell out of Gail." She paused and added, "Antonia. After Elaine's mom. Gail is for Gail Santana. How far down the cop rabbit hole do you wanna go?"

"Oh this, this sounds like a story." Jamie laughed.

"Al Santana was Elaine's TO and the former chief of police. He died a few years ago, and Duncan's his step-son."

Jamie interrupted. "Duncan... Gerald?"

"Gail couldn't remember his name."

"That sounds like Gail," said Jamie with a snort. "Carry on."

"Thank you," said Vivian with mock sweetness. Jamie poked her calf. "Okay! So Al's first wife was Gail, who was Elaine's BFF. When Elaine was pregnant, Gail was shot and killed in a routine traffic stop."

Jamie flinched. "Oh god, so she named the baby Gail."

"Actually... she miscarried." And now Jamie looked shocked. "Yeah. Gail was number three. Baby Peck never got a name and Gail was totally an accident after Elaine made detective." Vivian sighed. "Apparently it was a pretty rough pregnancy too, and Bill was undercover for a lot of it. Gail was born months early, they said she wouldn't live, and the Pecks didn't want to name her."

Screwing up her face, Jamie gestured at Vivian. "The Pecks are actually insane. You get that right?"

Vivian nodded. "Oh yeah. Totally."

"So Elaine just said fuckit and named Gail anyway?"

"Precisely. Which is why she's Gail and not Abigail."

"She doesn't look like an Abigail." Jamie's hands stopped rubbing and just rested on Vivian's feet, absently stroking them. "Gail is appropriate. Like a storm. And those eyes... she's... Gail is totally a raging storm, barely held in check."

"Sadly true." Vivian wriggled her toes. "How come you don't have siblings?"

"My grandfather." Jamie sighed. "Step grandfather. The asshole. Around the time they started thinking about another, he got Dad arrested."

"What an asshole," said Vivian under her breath.

"I know, right? He's still alive."

That was a surprise. "Should I take out a restraining order?"

"Maybe if he shows up... I know if I ever have kids, I'm keeping his ass away."

Vivian pursed her lips. "You really want kids?"

"Maybe." Jamie narrowed her eyes. "You really want to get married?"

Vivian knew Jamie was just asking for the immediate shock value, and smiled. "It's a bit late in the day. Pretty sure court is closed."

Her girlfriend snorted a laugh and slapped Vivian's leg. "Asshole. I didn't mean now."

"I'm blaming John for this. Elaine was asking me if I'd thought about it." Vivian cut herself short, remembering the conversation in total, including the part where Elaine got things wrong. That had not had a repeat in the month since, but still… Gail worried. Gail tended to internalize panic and fears about her family though.

"And?" Jaime looked amused. "This is the part where you tell me all about your white wedding dreams."

Vivian stuck out her lower lip. "I'm actually a little horrified you said that. Have you met me at all?"

Jamie hit her, lightly, with a pillow and laughed. Yeah. She knew Viv.


The insurance company wouldn't let her open the painting. Not even to check if it was the right painting that the Hoffman family had stored anyway. That was because the Hoffmans couldn't be contacted. They weren't answering phones. Preparatory to breaking into their house, Gail sent Pedro and Trujillo to check out their places of business and found they were on a 2 week cruise of the south pacific.

"I hate boats," Gail muttered to herself.

And no, the judge didn't approve her contacting the boat since no one was dead. Her argument of 'because ETF is awesome!' fell on deaf ears.

It was an active, criminal case, with a bomb, and Mounties, and no one would let her open a fucking crate to see if a damned Dutch Golden Age painting from the 1600s was inside or if it was dogs playing fucking poker.

Sometimes Gail hated her job. It was so fucking frustrating.

"Okay," she asked herself. "What can I work on?"

The threads of the case were pretty simple. She needed to know who made the bomb (the lab and ETF were working on that). She needed to know what the hell the painting was (that was pending the idiot Hoffmans coming back from vacation). She needed to know who her burglar was and why he'd wanted in.

That was still a mystery and he was sitting in a cell, saying nothing at all.

Gail was grudgingly impressed. And there were few things in life she hated more than having to be god damned impressed at idiot loser criminals. But damn it all, the fortitude the bank robber had was above and beyond the intestinal one needed to process one of Chris' meat drinks.

With a deep sigh, Gail rubbed her face. "Okay. Be aggressive. Pecks never give up. Criminals cower in the face of our power." She got up and opened the door. "Trujillo. Go try our bank robber again. Drop a hint that we lifted prints off the bomb. See what happens."

Trujillo stared at her. "Did we?"

"Yes, but it was unusable. He doesn't need to know that."

She closed her door again. Vivian and Ananda were doing a phenomenal job with what they had, they just didn't have enough. It was also just slow. Sloooooooow.

When her email pinged, Gail looked up and stared. No family known as Hoffman was aboard any of the cruise ships. What the hell... Gail snatched up her keyboard and ran the checks herself. Quickly she determined something horrifying: Ernst Hoffman, and his wife Greta, weren't real. The paperwork looked real, on a cursory glance, but they didn't exist.

The jobs were handled remotely and farmed out to people overseas. So why the ruse? "If you have a fake persona, why the vacation and the boat..." Gail tapped her lips. "What if our mystery guy is ... Oh that's good."

She threw her door open again, spotting Trujillo and Nuñez at the door. "Hold up! Changed my mind."

The duo shared a look and Pedro dug out his wallet. "Damn it. Why did I bet you?" He handed over a pair of bills.

"You're an idiot. That's why." Trujillo smiled. "What'd you divine, boss?"

"First, who ran the background check on the Hoffman name?" Gail looked around and spotted a guilty face. "Right. You're gonna take a class in this shit. They don't actually exist. It's a shell game. Layers and layers. Third party contractors actually do the work."

Pedro got it first. "Wait... So when the bank said they never put the name in there, they weren't lying? It was planted?"

"Signs point to valid."

"But... when would he had planted it? I mean, assuming robber Joe did it." Lucinda Trujillo wondered aloud.

"Allow me to lead you to the promised land," said Gail. "Tell me, my merry minions, what is a reason someone with a fake persona would have said persona take a vacation during the same time they broke into a vault? And remember I don't believe in coincidence."

There was a collective silence. "To stall us," said Trujillo.

"Because the insurance company," said Pedro.

"Try both," confirmed Gail. "A fake persona who is missing would be suspicious. One who is expected to be away would simply delay. And with insurance, it delays us further. What do we do now."

"Trace the Faux-Hoffman family to our would be robber," said Trujillo.

Pedro had the other angle. "Get a judge to remove the stay on the painting by proving the insurance company was duped. Which gets 'em on our side."

"Make it so, minions!" Gail waved a hand and imperiously walked back to her office.

She couldn't stifle the feeling of dread and doom though. The odds were their robber wouldn't break. And they needed a break, be it confession or evidence, to connect him firmly with the fake people.

Gail put her forehead down on her desk and tried took think of ways to break a stone silent perp. She didn't look up when her office door opened.

"Oh dear."

Holly. That was her wife.

"Unless you have evidence or you're rescinding the ban on me in the lab, I don't care."

"Both, if you don't mind a couple more days on the latter."

Gail picked her head up. "You have evidence?"

Holly smiled and held up bags of food. "Eat first."

"Holly, I love you. I don't give a shit about food—"

Her wife snorted a laugh. "Lies. Also stupid. Eat." Holly sat on the couch. "Don't try to win a battle of wills with me, Gail Peck."

That was true. Gail rarely won that with Holly. A lot of the firsts in their relationship had been because Holly was strong willed and opinionated. Not that Gail minded any of them. With one exception, her boyfriends had all been pretty dull and unimaginative. Of course, that also meant Holly had dragged her to a monster truck rally.

But a person didn't stay married for decades and not learn when to fight and when to give up.

Gail sat on the couch. "Can you just tell me if it's useful evidence."

Handing over a bowl of what smelled like quinoa and vegetables (and beef), Holly nodded. "Some of the parts used in the bomb are pretty unique. Hard to come by. We've traced it to a few shops in the area."

"Oh please, Holly. Don't tell me I have another fucking serial bomber?"

Holly laughed. "No." She pointed at Gail's bowl and waited until Gail ate a few bites. "Thank you. We found DNA on the bomb. It's a familial match to your robber. Female. Alas, also not in CODIS."

"Sister?"

"A safe bet."

Gail took another bite of food and pondered. "Maybe I can use that... a sister. Facial recognition. We could scan the videos of— Hang on." She dropped the bowl on her desk and bounded around. "If I use facial recognition on him, and have it pull params for reasonable divergence with a sister— whole or half? Can you tell?"

"Why not both?" Holly suggested and took another bite.

"Yeah, both is good. Takes more time but... we have him in jail. Okay, I'll scan the place for a couple weeks. Oh and anyone else using the Hoffman name! She's gotta be Greta! Can you give me a better time frame on the bomb?"

"Sure," said Holly lazily. It was the tricky lazy voice though. The voice that meant Gail was about to be played. Hard. "Four years ago."

Her stomach dropped. "Four years?" Gail stared at her wife. "You sure?"

"Quite. You know how we always joke about how nothing's like Sherlock Holmes, and criminals never have the dust from a specific flower that only blooms once a year on a certain slope?"

Gail was aware of Holly's point being that rarely was trace evidence actually rare. "Sure."

"This time it was." Holly sighed. "The cross section of the glue used to bind the parts together with the electronic components with the hardware and the explosive itself actually gave us a two month period four years ago."

That sounded weird. "What if she had some left over from another project?"

"Impossible. The glue was only sold on market for a short period of time. The factory exploded and the last sales were well known because the company wasn't sure if the explosion was bad luck or bad chemistry." Holly waved a hand. "Also we found a receipt."

"Lead with that," snarled Gail, sending her AV request for facial scanning anyway, using the times from Holly's report.

"And surprisingly none of that is why I'm here!"

Gail blinked and looked at her wife more seriously. Her wife as angry. Not at her. At science. Gail knew the 'I hate science!' look rather well. "What went wrong?"

Holly aggressively stabbed her salad. "It was a dud. The explosive was inert, and the wires never actually went to it." Holly gave a deep sigh. "It was modeling clay, scented to pass initial tests for Semtex 9."

Without thinking, Gail sat down in her chair. "A fake bomb. Left by the sister of the guy who robbed the vault owned by a fake person? Of whom she might be the other half?"

"An intentional fake bomb," said Holly in a near growl. "At least you've made headway though. Fake people? Tell me about it and spur my genius, wife."

Scooping her lunch up, Gail went to sit with her wife and tell her all about her mystery people. Maybe it would help.


She loved her wife beyond belief. Really. When Holly fell in love with Gail, it was irrecoverable. She would never be the same person she was before. She would never look at someone the same way again. She would never look at herself again. While Gail sometimes said she was a better person with Holly, it went both ways. The Holly Stewart who tied her life to Gail Peck was a better person. She stood up for herself and others in a different way. She was stronger, enough to tell people what she really felt instead of going with the flow.

Except in science. That part of her had never changed. Holly loved the perfection of science. It was an all consuming love that also had changed her, on a cellular level perhaps. Just like, years later, Holly could identify the moment she'd fallen for Gail, she knew the moment she'd fallen for science.

As a teen, awkward and gawky and nerdy, she'd been bullied in that low key way everyone different was bullied. Holly had her fair share of insulting nicknames. She'd been shoved against lockers. Called a bookworm. Called a weirdo for not dating boys. Called a weirdo for not wanting to make out with her boyfriend. But then she had science.

A small slice of the world where her parents weren't struggling with their trauma (of course she knew, kids always knew). A place where her big brain was needed and everything made sense. Put the right formula in and the solution appeared. Magic.

What she did not love, what was not magic, was this case.

As soon as her brilliant, snarky, morbid, beautiful, caring wife had determined the owners of the vault were fake personas, everything had changed. The insurance adjuster had arrived the next day with an apology and a promise of an expert in those things coming that week. But would they please, please, wait for her?

Privately Holly had hopped for Catherine Banning or Vicki Anderson. Instead, she got a really button down woman, older than Elaine Peck (who was the oldest of the parents), with a cane, a permanent scowl, and wispy grey hair.

"Sandy Paretti." No hand was extended. Just a blunt statement of fact.

"Dr. Holly Stewart," replied Holly.

The art expert looked between them. "This sure as shit isn't Thomas Crowne. Any of 'em," he muttered. A small, slender, neurasthenic looking man, he looked like he perpetually had a migraine. "Harold Wallace. You're insurance," he pointed at Sandy. "I'm your ancient art restorer. You're the famous medical examiner..." Harold eyed Vivian suspiciously. "And you...?"

"Officer Vivian Peck," said the woman with overly sweet, dulcet tones. She was so much like her mother in those moments. "ETF. I popped the bomb and the boxes."

Both Sandy and Harold gave Vivian a droll look. "Alleviate my curiosity," said Sandy, in rather demanding tones. "Related to Superintendent Elaine Peck?"

Vivian looked a little surprised. "Granddaughter."

"Hm. Well. I'd hoped to see young Gail here. She must be your mother. I can't fathom Steven's children would look that superior whilst introducing themselves." The older woman regarded Holly. "Which makes you the other mother. Welcome to hell."

Arching her eyebrows, Holly relied coolly. "I find working with Inspector and Officer Peck to be a highly professional environment." She filed away the fact that Sandy called Gail 'young Gail' for later.

Sandy made a harumph noise. "My dear doctor. My company has been duped. To provide as highly rewarding an insurance policy as we did on this painting only to find the owner was, indeed, nonexistent, is quite galling."

The more Sandy spoke, the more her egalitarian accent became pronounced. European. The woman was well traveled.

Vivian chimed in. "Frankly, being tasked with defusing a bomb that was never able to explode wasn't fun." She and Sandy shared a look of understanding.

"Well. How about you recap what you've done, Doctor," asked Harold.

"The basics. X-rays, bomb sniffing, electronics scanning. The MRI was inconclusive. Some reflective material inside the case gave all sorts of false reports." Holly stopped and caught a weird look from Harold, so she added, "That's it. We didn't dust for prints yet."

Harold looked shocked. "What?"

Sandy sighed. "That would be my company's fault. How long would it take you to dust for prints now?"

"Half hour, hour. But as long as we use gloves to disassemble the frame, my lab can do it at any time." That was the only reason Holly didn't get grumpy about the delay. It wasn't hard to wait a little longer.

"Well. Let's get to that. With your permission, Ms. Paretti." Harold half bowed.

"Honestly, Harold." Sandy huffed and leaned on her cane. "You're such a drama queen."

Holly blinked. "You know each other?"

"Heavens," said Harold. "Since your ... second husband?"

"Third. You met me between Michael."

Smiling, Harold leaned toward Vivian and said, conspiratorially, "She married him twice. Two and four." Then he added, "You're the muscle right? You'll crack the frame for me?"

"Harold, she's a lesbian. And a police officer, not a lab tech."

Without turning a hair, Vivian replied, "I am the muscle. And certified to assist in the lab." She pulled on a pair of thick nitrile gloves. It had been Vivian's own idea to certify for field evidence collection and as much lab work as possible. After Vivian landed in ETF, it was a godsend. The amount of useable trace from ETF's missions had skyrocketed.

As Vivian carefully disassembled the wood frame, Holly took pictures and labeled it. The job was far beneath her station, but the case was high profile enough to warrant her personally attention. And Holly rather liked it as a break from the routine. Together, they had the presumed painting out of the wood and on a second table within twenty minutes.

Finally everyone was staring at a metallic, crinkly, fabric, wrapped around the item.

"What is that?" Harold's voice was perplexed.

"Looks like... I'd say Mylar but that can't be right." Holly arched her eyebrows. "May I?" Both Sandy and Harold nodded. Carefully Holly felt for the edges of the material and pulled it back. She was going to have to investigate the material. "Doesn't feel like Mylar. And that wouldn't block an MRI anyway. V— Officer Peck, did you try a pen test on it?"

"Yeah, but it just looks for electronics so that's not going to be too helpful." The girl pulled a glove off and dug her phone out. "This is the on-scene test. Just shows a rectangle."

Everyone studied the picture. "Well," said Sandy. "Let's see what we really have."

Holly carefully lifted the painting up and placed it on the special mat Harold had requested. "Ladies and gentleman, I present to you ..." She stopped. Holly eyed the painting and realized she had no idea what it was.

And Vivian did. "That's Vermeer. He's a Dutch Golden Age but..." The officer looked at a very unhappy Sandy.

"That is not the painting we insured." Sandy walked up and studied it. "We insured a landscape by Adriaen van de Velde. That..."

Harold joined them. "This appears to be a lost Vermeer... the God Jupiter, casting lighting against his brothers, Neptune and Pluto." He sounded practically orgasmic.

Vivian screwed up her face. "No way. That's just a rumor." She turned to Holly. "No one's ever found about thirty of Vermeer's works, which isn't super weird. Lotta paintings were lost."

"An A plus for you, young Miss Peck," said Harold.

"I took art history for an elective." That was the influence of Gail (and Elaine) at work.

"If we're all done glad handing," said Sandy, acidly. "Where's my painting?"

Holly picked up her phone. "That is a job for Inspector Peck. Thank god. She's been bored." The snort from her daughter expressed exactly what Holly was thinking. Few things were as dangerous as a bored Gail Peck.


As Vivian changed out of her uniform, Sabrina and Lara sat down on the bench behind her.

"Lost paintings." Lara sounded impressed.

"Fake bombs." Sabrina did not. She sounded like it was hilarious.

"I heard Inspector Peck shouting," said Jenny, leaning on the lockers.

Vivian snorted. "Oh my god, who hasn't?" She took off her grey t-shirt. "Okay, public knowledge? The robber still isn't talking, which is why Gail was shouting. He has an accomplice, can't find 'em. The painting is the wrong one. No idea where the real one is, and the lab is trying to figure out who made the Vermeer."

That shut them all up for a moment.

"Wait. Who made the Vermeer?" That was Lara.

"What's a Vermeer?" And that was Sabrina.

"Who made the bomb?" Back to Jenny.

Turning, Vivian pointed at them. "You guys are the worst sitcom ever, just for the record. Vermeer was a painter, he did the Girl with the Pearl Earring. The painting looked like one of his lost ones, but it's a fake. The paint is post 1940. Yes, we got to use the nuclear bomb test. His accomplice presumably made the bomb."

The trio looked stunned. Lara sighed and leaned into Sabrina. "Here I thought all your ETF stuff would be like the house with Safary. Bombs and bursting in."

"Surprisingly rarely." Sabrina patted Lara's head. "Especially not for me and Peck. We're on the actual bomb stuff, not the first responders or tactical."

"That's really cool," admitted Lara. "I like having more girls here, too. We miss our Prickly Peck when she's not around."

"She grew on us, like a fungus," Jenny offered.

"We kinda dig her too." Sabrina grinned. "She doesn't get all weird and girly, and she's not super macho." Apparently Sabrina was ignoring the chin-up contests. Vivian had won.

Vivian did not join that banter, instead she pulled on her jeans. "If this is an offer to hang at the Penny tonight, I can't. I gotta follow up with Nuñez and Trujillo before I go home."

"Homebody." Lara laughed. "I can't believe you have a steady, live in, girlfriend. I would have thought getting laid regularly would make you more..." She stopped.

Of course Jenny had a suggestion. "Relatable? Gossipy? You know that would never happen. Our Peck is an island."

"I'm not a Paul Simon song." Vivian pulled on her tank top.

"No, but you got your tattoo finished." Jenny gestured at Vivian's arm.

Vivian looked over at Jenny. "I did. It didn't look as good in black and white. Or ... whatever."

Amused, Sabrina shook Lara off and leaned back to get a better look. "I think it's cool. Was that like four visits?"

"Two. Apparently I have a high pain tolerance." She pulled on a button down shirt, yes flannel, and left it untucked. "Anything else before I go, y'know, do my job?" To their credit, there was no tell. Jenny and Lara just hopped up and hugged her. "Oh come on!" Vivian grimaced. "This is not how I communicate."

"Come to the Penny tomorrow?" Lara squeezed as she pleaded.

"Bring your girl. We're totally team FireBomb," added Lara.

Sabrina lost it and started laughing. "Oh my god, they gave you a ship name!"

"It was that or Vamie, which sounds weird." Lara let go at least as she explained. "And McPeck makes it sound like you're dating our boss. Couldn't you have found a girl with a name that made a natural nickname?"

Dryly, Vivian replied. "I'm sorry that appropriate portmanteaus weren't on my list of features to look for in a girlfriend." But. She broke down. "Penny on Friday. Fine. Watch, I'm texting Jamie now." And Vivian pulled her phone out to text Jamie the plan.

"Thank you!" Lara sang her reply and then looped her arm through Jenny's. "Come on. Let's finish paperwork."

"Harassing Peck is more fun," whinged Jenny but they walked off together.

Sabrina? Still laughing. "They love you, Peck."

"I know." She pulled on her jacket and bumped the locker closed. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yep." The older officer looked up at Vivian. "You're doing better, you know. Since Safary. You got steadier."

Vivian blinked. "Oh. That's ... uh. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say."

The woman, her unofficial mentor and friend, smiled. "You're gonna be big one day, Viv. Maybe like Sue, but I think... I think your brain is going to win out over that love of a rush."

What an odd statement. "I don't want to be a detective."

"No. You think better with your body." Sabrina sighed and stood up. "I don't know. I'm saying all this wrong. I just think... in ten years, I'm going to be working for you."

"Oh like we're going to keep doing this for ten more years," said Vivian with a laugh.

"Why not? Sue's been here forever."

That was a more odd statement. Sue was a little older than Gail and had been a copper forever. Was she too feeling her fifty-plus years? Would she retire soon? "I dunno. Doing this till I die sounds so weird. I think ... I think that I'll do this until it's not for me anymore. Until I don't wake up and think about how much I love it. Until I stop feeling like I'm making a difference. Until I feel like I'm not making the world a better place. And then... then maybe SIU, but maybe I'll be a mom, or a housewife, or a teacher, or ... God, maybe I'll sleep. I'm a cop for three whole years, Sabrina. I got my life ahead of me."

Sabrina stared at her. "That is the most I've ever heard you say in one go that wasn't about a case."

Vivian shrugged. "It's how I am. See you tomorrow." She clapped Sabrina's shoulder and walked out.

It was a lot to think about though. Being fifty and having a desk job like Gail was one thing. Being fifty and suiting up and running into buildings in a full kit was another. Noelle was gone. She was the last of the Old Guard for Gail. Steve was gone. He was the first of the Old Guard for Vivian. Would Sue be next?

The deep thought was apparently evident on her face as she entered the third floor. "Oh god, don't tell me more bad news, kid," groaned her mother.

Vivian snapped her head up. "No, no. Just thinking... math."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Jesus, this is what I get, marrying a scientist. Fucking kid frowns over math."

She smiled. "Age math."

"If it's not about 1934, I don't wanna know," declared Gail as they walked into the Major Crimes bullpen.

What an odd date. "What's World War II got to do with it?"

Gail barked a laugh. "Damn it, Trujillo. I told you she'd get it."

From her desk, the detective sighed. "If you figured out our secret had to do with Nazis, I hate you."

Vivian felt her jaw drop. "Nazis? Hitler loving, goose stepping, Nazis?" What on earth could they have to do with this? Wait... "The painting was a fake. And it was a fake missing painting. And it was made after the war. There's no way it could be stolen Nazi art. Unless... Unless it's got a ghost."

Pedro Nuñez threw his own down. "For fucks sake. You're both impossible."

Pointing at Vivian, Gail stated the obvious. "Why do you think she knows that shit, Pedro? Huh? Come on."

He looked offended. "I done know. I thought I had a fucking chance..." Pedro grumbled. "Yes, there's a painting under the damn painting."

"Is it dogs playing poker?" Vivian asked, as chipper as she could.

"That's the same joke Dr. Stewart made," complained Trujillo.

Vivian took pity on the woman. "It's a plot point in The Thomas Crowne Affair. The second one, with Brosnan."

In her most superior tone, Gail announced, "I like the Steve McQueen version better."

"Elitist snob." Vivian could get away with teasing her mother like that now, even at work. "So ... does this change why you wanted to see me?"

Trujillo nodded. "Kind of. Mostly. The bomb. Are you absolutely sure about dates on the bomb parts?"

Nodding right back, Vivian walked over to lean on Trujillo's desk. "Testify in court sure, yeah. The way the bomb was constructed, the way the parts were used, it had a couple month window."

"In your expert opinion," said Pedro slowly. "Could a man have made the bomb?"

Vivian arched her eyebrows. "Not your John Doe robber." Both younger detectives stared at her. "His left hand. He couldn't move his fourth and fifth finger." She heard her mother snort. "The amount of manual dexterity you need to put that bomb together... even with pliers, he didn't have it."

Now it was Trujillo who threw her pen down. "Damn it. See, he claims it's his painting, but not his bomb."

"So? He sure as shit didn't know what to do with the bomb." Vivian paused. "Unless he made it before he fucked up his hands. Only it sure looked long term."

The voice of the omniscient narrator (aka Gail Peck) cut in. "Based on scar tissue, doctor gives it at least ten years. Which would be helped if he said a thing."

"Except that it's his painting," said Trujillo.

"What painting is underneath?" wondered Vivian.

"En Canot," said Gail, as blasé as possible.

"No shit?" Vivian straightened and stared at Gail, stunned. That was one of the more famous missing paintings.

Gail broke up and laughed. "Alter Buchenwald by Leistikow. Presumably. Holly's arguing with that Harold guy about how to clean it off so they can test it. It was a good fake though."

"What happened to Ms. Paretti?"

"Sandy? She's comparing all their photos to see what the fuck the painting is, and if it's what her company insured or not. Signs point to not, which puts an extra wrinkle in this shar-pei of a case." Gail pushed her hands through her hair. "Nazi paintings. A guy who won't talk. A bomb. You sure you don't want to be a D, kid?"

Vivian smiled. "Oh yeah. How'd the facial recognition go?"

"We limited it to the weeks that the Greta woman was on site, according to records. She never tipped her face to the camera." Pedro held up his tablet, showing the shots they'd managed to get. Worthless. "She hasn't been seen since. Lab hasn't lifted a usable print. Mentioning it didn't get a rise out of our guy. He's good."

With the begrudging acknowledgment of being impressed, Gail growled. "He's very good. I hate him. I wish I was allowed to rough him up."

Everyone seemed to know that wasn't true in the slightest.

"Come on," decided Vivian. "You're just going to piss everyone off today."

Gail narrowed her eyes. "I'm not going home. I'll just be an ass."

"I know. How about we shoot shit?"

That seemed, at the very least, slightly interesting. "You're trying to distract me."

Vivian glanced at the detectives. Normally this was something Holly would do. She would swoop in and pull a Peck's head out of her ass, getting her back on the right road. But Holly was busy with a fake painting and probably pissing off her own lab. "I have a better idea. We're going on a double date."

"What the what?" Gail stared.

Tapping her phone, Vivian texted Jamie and then called Holly's number. "Hi, Mom. I'm declaring it Wednesday."

"It's Thursday," said an exhausted, cranky, Holly Stewart.

"Jamie's coming to pick you up. Love you, Mom." And she hung up, feeling rather smug.

"This is your idea? Go hit balls?"

"Come on, you're driving me."

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Then Gail threw her hands up and stomped to her office, swearing.

"Thank god," muttered Mayhew. "I wish John was back."

"Next week," said someone else. "She really hates good criminals."

Vivian had to agree with her mother on that matter. "She hates ones who won't break."

"I hate 'em too." Pedro grimaced. "Okay, you can read her mind right? Should I study up on Nazis, art, or fake identities?"

The damned thing was, Vivian had an answer to the random question. Reaching over, she wrote those three concepts on a piece of paper, making a sort of triangle. Then she drew three circles, making a Venn diagram. "That's what she'd do."

Pedro stared at the intersection of the three concepts.

Of course that was when Gail came out of her office. "Okay, junior. Let's roll. You sure Jamie's picking up my wife?"

Vivian checked her phone. "At your house. I guess Mom wanted to drop off her car."

"And change her shoes no doubt. What're you doing with your bike?"

"It's at home. Too slushy."

She decided not to tell her mother about the tip she'd given Pedro. Either he'd figure it out or he wouldn't. Vivian knew she could do that job, and probably well. She just knew she really didn't want to.

All things told, she liked where she was just then.


Whew! And we are off and running with our case for season four. A robber who won't confess his name. A fake owner of a safe deposit box. Fake missing art covering even more missing art. A bomb the robber didn't make, possibly made by his sister, whom they can't find.

Sounds like another fun year!