05.01 - Blink
Welcome to season five!
Gail has a very eventful day when all she wants is a haircut.
Sometimes Gail wondered if she was going to die like her father or her grandfather. Both had died in their own homes, but Bill had still been a cop and Harold had not. Funny thing what a stroke did to a person.
Truth be told, Gail didn't really think about her grandfather a whole lot. She had written him off as insane and abusive long before she'd known the extent of the situation and, as far as Gail was concerned, he could rot in hell. But the more her Armstrong family excluded her from the world at large, and they were doing a bang up job of that, the more Gail wondered.
What would her own death be like? Would she die alone, shot in some alley? Would she die in a bed, sustained only by machines? Would she hold someone's hand as she slipped away?
And what did death even feel like? Did it hurt? Did it feel like the abruptness of sleep? Would she even notice without the comparison of waking to follow it?
The death thoughts were probably because, as she stared down the barrel of a gun, she was contemplating her own mortality. Or at least she should have been. Really, the prominent thought was one sentence.
Holly was going to kill her.
A few hours earlier ...
"Gail!"
"Hey, Crystal." Gail smiled at the woman behind the counter.
Crystal handed over a glass of the salon's chilled ginger ale. "Are you ever going to stop dying your hair?"
Shaking her head, Gail happily took the glass. While it was September, it was still freakishly warm. Holly swore it wasn't related to climate change, though, and Gail was inclined to believe her. "Not unless my kid makes me a grandmother."
"She's been seeing the same girl for how long?" Crystal looked amused.
"Two and change, and shut up. They can't accidentally get pregnant like your boss."
Behind her came the warm laugh of Celery Shaw. "Gail, please never change."
"Who messes with perfection, huh?" Still, Gail did allow a hug from Celery. Like Oliver, she was an exception to so many rules.
"I expect nothing less from you, Gail." Celery smiled. "We'll be seeing you for at least another year for cut and colour."
"A year?" Gail arched her eyebrows. "Are you seeing the future again, Celery?"
"I just know you're going to be grandmother one day, Gail, that's all." Celery smiled in her cryptic way and gestured for Gail to follow her. There were no questions to be asked, it was just a fact. Gail knew far better than to even try.
The spa didn't give the best haircuts Gail had ever had, but she secretly loved the ambiance. Gail used the excuse that she was supporting family and friends, and she was sure no one believed her. It didn't matter much anymore. While Gail was still incredibly anti-social, her friends knew she had a big heart. Even if idiots like Dov forgot now and then.
Still, it was hard to fuck up Gail's preferred cut and colour. Sometimes, if she just wanted a cut, she'd visit the barber shop near her house, but today she felt like being blonde again. And like being a girl.
Her stylist knew Gail well enough not to chat about meaningless things. There was the bleaching and the colouring atop it, which took some time, and then finally the cut itself. Negotiations about the back (yes the razor and the straight line) and the ears (a little sideburns this time) were quickly done. All in all, a pleasant few hours to be pampered.
And that was, of course, why everything went to hell.
Gail was leaning towards the mirror, inspecting her bangs, and wondering if they should be a little shorter when she heard the screaming. They were screams of fear. Absolute fear. That was not good...
"What the—" Her stylist started to move towards the entrance and Gail reflexively grabbed his arm while her free hand went to her empty hip.
"Wait." Gail looked over at the door and her stomach dropped.
A man, taller than she was, Caucasian with brown-black hair and stubble, was holding a gun on Celery.
"What—" The stylist paled.
"Get everyone out the back. Now," hissed Gail. "Go. Go."
Praying it was just a robbery simple, Gail reached for her purse. Shit. She didn't have a gun with her. She didn't bring it to the salon, or any place her purse might be out of her hands for a length of time.
Well. Time to do it the grown up way.
Gail confidently walked towards the front. "Hi," she said, forcing a calm she absolutely didn't feel.
"Who the hell are you?" The man kept the gun trained on Celery.
"My name's Gail. You?"
The inanity of having to force a cordial conversation while someone held a gun on someone Gail thought of as family was not lost on her.
"Keith—" He cut himself off, startled perhaps at the reflex action that prompted him to reply. "What the hell? Why are you here?"
Gail scratched her nose. "Well. You're holding a gun on my friend here. I'm guessing you're in some kind of trouble?"
The gunman, Keith, stared at her. His eyes wide. "You... you have no idea what... what the hell?"
"You said that before," Gail pointed out. "Look. If you're in trouble, Keith, I can help you. But you need to let her go, okay?"
The gun itself wavered. Gail tried to unobtrusively check if the safety was on, but she was at a bad angle.
"Why would you help me?"
"It's kinda what I do, Keith," she replied.
"Why do you keep saying my name," he gritted out.
"Because you're a human being, Keith. And people should respect each other."
Keith scowled and looked out the window. "Shit..."
Reluctantly, Gail looked as well. A battered car and some angry men were pointing at them. Oh. "You pissed off your gang, huh?" She sighed and ran her hands through her hair.
"How did you..."
Gail smiled tiredly. "There are two types of people who recognize gangs, Keith. Fellow gang members and..."
He caught on. "You're a cop." Keith's voice flattened.
"Detective, yes." Gail sucked on her bottom lip for a moment. "We could call the cops. Let them take care of your hoser friends."
"Right, like they'd get here fast enough."
"Oh they would. I'm here. And they'd take me seriously." Stepping toward the door, Gail flinched when Keith yelled. "Look, idiot. If you don't want them to come in, you lock the door."
"Oh... I though... you're not going to negotiate?"
"With them? Hah, no." Gail flipped the lock and bolted it. "You have security bars, right, Celery?"
Keith was flummoxed. "Who's Celery?'
"The woman you're holding a gun on." Gail canted her head to the side. This was an opportunity. "Tell you what. How about you keep me as a hostage and let Celery lock us up?"
"You're all staying." Keith was firm.
Right. Gail decided not to point out his gun could kill, at most, 20 of them. Her eyes drifted to the gun. 15 rounds were more likely, and he was unlikely to be as practiced a shot as Gail. Not to mention shooting at people was a lot harder than it seemed. "Okay. Can she tell me how to lock up?"
"And the back too," decided Keith.
Where Gail had sent people out. Damn. "Front first," she said, trying to sound practical.
Locking up the front and back only took a few minutes. There were still a good seven people in the spa, and Keith demanded Gail check and close every single door. Part of her wanted to lie, but pissing off an armed and angry man was generally considered dumb.
Keith rounded them up and had them all sit in the hallway, fairly safe, and Gail winced as something crashed into the front window. Oh good. A brick. And she hadn't turned on the silent alarm because she wasn't sure how well that would work with them inside.
"We know you're in there, Keith. Come on, man. Give up."
Gail made a face. "Did you rip 'em off or something?"
"Shut up!" Keith shouted and Gail wasn't sure if he meant her or the gang.
"They're going to break the windows," she pointed out. "If they get desperate, they'll ram a car into the front, which would really suck for Celery here."
"Damn it, I know that, you crazy bitch!"
"Heard that one before," she muttered. "Look, Keith. Either way, people are going to notice and someone's calling the cops. But if you let me call them, it ends faster, which is better. No one gets hurt."
"Except you arrest me."
"Keith, my man, you're already fucked about that one," Gail pointed out. "This is just a matter of how fucked you want to be."
Keith finally met her eyes.
There was something off about him, something that didn't say gang to Gail. She'd seen it before in deep cover officers, but this wasn't the same. Not having the time to work though that right now, Gail kept Keith's eyes and waited. He finally nodded and she reached for her phone.
"Speaker."
"Of course." Gail tapped her phone and enabled speaker, dialling dispatch. "Dispatch, 8727. Do you have my location?"
The dispatch agent hesitated. "Copy, 8727. We have your location. Officers have already been dispatched."
"Back 'em up with 8715. We have armed assailants."
"Understood." Thank god Dispatch was an old hand at this. Dispatch didn't ask if they needed to talk, Traci and Gail. It was understood that Gail couldn't speak freely.
Gail tapped mute. "Keith, can I tell her how many are here?" When he nodded, she unmuted. "There are eight of us, including the owner."
"Copy, 8727. Can you extract?"
"Negative."
"Understood."
Keith reached over and hung up the phone. "You're done. Why were you talking in code?"
"My badge number is 8727," Gail explained. "Dispatch tracks my phone so they have my location and don't need me to shout out cross streets or something stupid."
"Oh." Keith looked doubtful. "Why did you say negative and not no?"
"No sounds like go or a couple other words. Negative is harder to get confused with another word."
It was rare to see a criminal look enlightened. But rarer still for them to even ask. Something was really wrong with this. People didn't ask about that. Ever. Especially when they were holding a gun. He was like what a bad actor thought a criminal was like. Maybe.
Damn it, why couldn't Chloe be here? She was better at this part.
To the side, Celery gave Gail a look that was easy to understand. She too felt something wasn't right. If the witch was nervous... Damn. Okay. Now what? They had to wait it out. Wait to be rescued. Oh yes, that was a fun memory. The last time Gail had been forced to wait it out, she'd nearly died.
Jerry had died.
This time, Gail wasn't alone. She wasn't drugged to the gills.
Right. Don't be afraid. Don't panic.
Gail closed her eyes, leaned back against the wall and listened. Someone was outside shouting and there was another crash. "I really hope your insurance covers this," she said to Celery.
"You're worried about insurance?" Keith was flabbergasted. "They want to kill me!"
"Yeah, I noticed. What'd you steal? I mean drugs, yeah, but ..."
Keith looked away.
Gail just could not shake the bad feeling. She was missing something. Maybe it was just the tension of being held hostage again. That was not something Gail was comfortable with. No one was, really. "Drugs and money," she decided.
"What the..." Keith growled. "Is she psychic?"
"No such thing," replied Celery and Gail almost laughed. "She's the second smartest person I know, though."
Now Gail laughed. "I'll buy that for a dollar," she agreed.
Keith did not sound amused. "How the hell do you two know each other?"
"I've been coming here since she opened," demurred Gail. She didn't want to give him more ammunition such as it was. She cracked an eye and regarded Keith. "Look. We can only wait now. The cops are coming, and hopefully before your hot headed buddies do more than shout and throw bricks."
The drug runner eyed Gail. "Wait."
"Yeah, most of being in a hostage situation is waiting. You're waiting till your needs are met. Speaking of, what do you want?"
That caught the man by surprise. "What do I want?"
"A million bucks. A helicopter. Cocaine."
The last made him laugh. "You'd give me cocaine?"
"Slightly more likely than the helicopter." Gail shrugged and closed her eyes again. "Most of the time, we track you, though. Million bucks? Tracked. Helicopters? We might trick you and knock you out. Cocaine, well, if you want to kill yourself, it's better than suicide by cop."
"You're insane." Keith shook his head.
"I hear that a lot." She could hear the angry drug gang outside. "They're really pissed at you. Did you sleep with someone's side piece?"
Instead of answering, he asked her something different. "Who's 8715?"
"Huh?" Gail opened her eyes.
"You said you were 8747. So 8715 is another cop. Who?"
Gail waved a hand. "A gang specialist. That was me telling the cops what kind of a mess we're in."
Keith seemed to accept this. "You won't let me go, will you?"
Gail shook her head. "No. That whole song and dance about how they barter with criminals is just for show. We don't actually negotiate as much as people think we do." She tilted her head to one side. "Of course, if you tell me what you do want..."
"You won't get it."
"No, probably not. But it would give me an idea of what I can do for you." Gail waited, but Keith was silent and the gang shook the security bars. "See... most people don't know what they really want. They pick the easy thing. That's why prisoner's last meals were things like steak. Simple. Easy. But what they really want they were afraid to say."
For whatever reason, everyone was looking at Gail. "What do people really want?" The quavering voice of one of the aestheticians drifted through the room like a hint of flowers on a summer breeze.
It was a very esoteric question. "Not things," said Gail carefully. She wanted to answer the question honestly, but she also wanted Keith to turn to her and confess. Time to play the long game. The one where she wove a story and distracted a criminal and tricked them into being on her side.
Yet another thing she'd found in herself after Perik.
She exhaled. "People want love and acceptance. They want to be protected and to be free. By the time someone is in prison, they've lost all of that, even if they're in for the right reasons. They just want someone to forgive them, to make the guilt and pain go away." Gail shifted and crossed her legs. "The funny thing is ... all of us out here, that's all we want too. So we join gangs and the cops and the army, or we smother ourselves in the banality of corporate life."
Across the aisle, with a gun still trained on her, Celery looked sympathetic. "Gail."
"What a depressing view," muttered Keith.
"Live this life as long as I do, Keith, you see the reality." Gail shrugged. "Point is, we're not so different. I've been where you are, hunted by my friends. Ostracized. Hated." She paused. "Okay, I've never held a gun on someone, but the point remains."
Keith looked at the gun and, to Gail's surprise, lowered it. "Not like you're going to run out of here," he pointed out. But he still held it. Gail was not about to try and jump him. "It doesn't matter how many people I hurt. They want me dead."
"I don't," said Gail pragmatically. "And I hire former insiders a lot."
"So I wouldn't go to jail?"
Gail coughed a laugh. "Oh you go to jail, Keith. Couple years in minimum. Detox you. Make sure we get the guys who want you dead while keeping you safe."
"In prison. How'm I supposed to help you in prison?"
"There's prison and there's prison." Gail shrugged.
"How many people you do this with?"
"Oh. Dozens. Heard about the car thefts about .. twenty years back? Electronic masters?"
The man blinked. "Shit, everyone heard about that."
"Right. Their ringleader is still locked up, but her head tech? Works for me."
Keith's eyes widened. "You're telling me you cut that deal?"
And Gail nodded. "Yeah. Wasn't even my first big case. And? I'm the boss now. So y'know. We can work this out. You and me."
Keith looked away.
This time Gail let him dwell on his own and tried to think through how to get in touch with the cops. Her phone was still on, but no one called or texted. No doubt they were just tracking. Her smart watch, she could call 911, but that wouldn't help. She needed to communicate, and it was too hard to do that without an open line. Using the phone via her watch would still pop an alert up on her phone, and Keith would see that.
The bars outside the shop rattled. The gang was checking something. "Ah fuck," muttered Gail, watching them in the mirrors. They backed up, looking to the side where she couldn't see.
If the cops didn't show up soon, they were totally going to try the car. Gail knew she wouldn't hear the sirens. There was no need. Local patrol would clear the area, set up a blockade. They would do it as quiet as possible, to not get the attention of the gang.
Then ETF would roll up and set up on the outskirts. They'd have their gear and be eavesdropping. If only Gail was half as clever as Vivian was with tech. No doubt Vivian would have pressed a button on her watch and opened a line on her phone for someone to tap.
"They're not shouting anymore," said Celery quietly, interrupting Gail's thoughts.
Why yes, they had shut up. Gail leaned back and glanced out the windows. "Yeah, ETF is here." She turned to Keith. "See? All good. You can let everyone go now."
The man hesitated. "Not you."
Crap. "Okay," said Gail, trying to act like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Celery and everyone else, right?" He nodded. "Okay. Can I call the cops out there? Let 'em know what's going on?" Again, Keith nodded.
"Gail," hissed Celery.
She waved Celery's worry away and put the phone on speaker. "Dispatch, 8727. Can you connect me with whoever's running the shindig outside?"
"Copy, 8727. Hold."
A few seconds later and a voice asked, "That you, Peck?" Julian Smith was on the line. Oh good. Her kid was out there.
"Yep," she said, popping the P. "Listen, the staff and patrons are going to come out the front door."
"Oh. All of them?"
"Except me, yes."
There was a click on the line. Not a technical one, but a clack of someone shutting their jaw quickly. Ah. Jules did not like the situation. Well neither did Gail.
"Okay. Out the front?"
"Out the front, affirmative."
Keith spoke up. "No funny business. The cop lady stays."
"... Okay then." Julian sounded resigned. Unhappily so.
Gail wasn't thrilled either, frankly. "It's fine," she said, lying, and nodded at Celery. "Can she unlock the doors now, Keith?"
"Uh. Yeah. Yeah. Go." They both watched Celery unlock the door and pull the metal grate aside. He gestured at her phone. "Hang up."
"Okay. Hanging up now." Gail hesitated and wondered if she could leave it on.
The hesitation was a mistake. Keith shot her phone.
"Okay, that was dumb," she muttered as Celery's front desk secretary screamed and they ran out. Making sure to turn to the door, Gail waved. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" Celery caught her eye and nodded as she rushed everyone else out. Thank God she'd tell everyone Gail was fine. "The cops'll rush in here if they think I'm shot, idiot."
"They'll tell 'em you're fine," said Keith, dismissively.
Gail frowned. It was like he wanted to get caught. "It was a new phone," she added, peevishly.
"I have a gun, and you're bitching about your phone?" Keith turned the gun on Gail.
Oh. Well that was new. Gail stared at the gun for a moment and realized Holly was totally going to kill her for this. Then she forced herself to look up. "If you shoot me, the cops out there are going to light you up like a Christmas tree," she said calmly. "Hell, they may do it anyway if they think you might shoot me."
It also really was a new phone. She liked that phone. Vivian had set it up for her nicely. Gail ran a hand through her hair, making a face when she encountered the bits of trimmed hair, and she shook the hand out. Okay. New directions. New moves. New play.
"I could shoot you," he said abruptly and the gun was raised to point directly at Gail's face.
Yeah, Holly was going to kill her.
Gail stared at the barrel. Down the barrel. Huh. She had never done that before. Gun safety was drilled into a Peck like other families taught shoe tying. Or so she guessed. Even Vivian had been forced to sit and listen and learn before Gail would even consider letting her touch a gun.
But in all her years, in all her time as a Peck, on the force, Gail had never looked down the barrel of a gun. She never wanted to. She could had gone her entire life without it. Though on the plus side, she'd finally found something as terrifying as being held captive by Ross Perik.
The thought of the serial killer calmed her.
Gail forced herself to look away from the gun and up to the eyes of the man behind it. Connect with the man. Luke told her to listen and get Perik to talk. Years later, Gail figured out that worked with anyone and everyone. And she understood why. People were desperate to fill the silence.
In the beginning, she'd called Keith by his first name as much as possible, to humanize him and make him feel like she cared about him as a human. Now she met his eyes with a different reason. Gail had to make herself a human. She had to connect so he saw her as Gail Peck, and not a random person he could kill.
Not an easy task for her. Easier for Chloe, who was a likeable person. Gail was not a nice person. She wasn't kind, she was rarely charitable, and she was bitter and sarcastic. To make Keith like her, enough to not kill her, was an uphill battle.
She took a deep breath and asked, "Why?"
"Whu— what?"
"Why kill me? What does it get you?"
Keith faltered. "Me?"
"No one else here but you and me, Keith. And I know what being shot gets me." When he didn't answer, Gail went on. "Assuming you kill me, I leave a spouse and a kid and a lot of cops who will put on dress uniforms and black bands and fire a 21-gun salute. My mom, god help me, will probably break down. I suppose the plus side is that I'll be dead. My brother will get loaded." Gail sighed. "But you? You get nothing. Lots of angry cops, life sentence. No time off for good behaviour."
He stared at her, a little surprised. "You have a kid?"
Gail wanted to fist pump. She settled for a mental high five. Now, she was a real person to Keith. "Yeah. A daughter."
"Your job scare her?"
Gail nodded. "Sometimes. It's hard, but she understands what I have to do."
Keith frowned and adjusted his hold on the gun, straightening it out a little. "Brother and mom... Do they get it?"
"Well they were cops, so yes. I come from a long line of people who are devoted to this sort of thing, Keith." She paused. "Admittedly, didn't expect this today. I just wanted a haircut."
"From a crazy hippie."
"From a crazy hippie married to my mentor." At Keith's shocked expression, Gail continued. "Her husband was the best cop I ever knew. Is the best person in the universe."
Keith glanced back out the front. "You don't do sanctuary."
"Thats churches."
"Right." He nodded. "I want ..." Keith gripped the gun and centred it on Gail. "I'm going to jail no matter what, aren't I?"
"Yes," she replied carefully.
"So. What are my options?"
Gail tried not to swallow visibly. She wasn't going to give him options. She was going to tell him the outcome she wanted. "Hand me the gun, this all stands down. You go to jail but I speak up for you, get you a light sentence."
"That's one option."
"I'm not much a fan of the others," she pointed out.
"Yeah. Yeah. I suppose not." Keith looked like he was weighing his options. Then he nodded. A grim set to his face.
Fuck. Gail refused to look at the gun. She steadfastly met his eyes instead. "You don't want this, Keith."
"You don't know nothing."
"You're right, I know nothing. But I know that killing someone is an act you don't come back from."
"Oh? Killed someone?"
Gail shook her head. "Seen it. Seen people I know kill. Seen the brains of a friend blown out over me. Nearly died a couple times. Took a man I loved off life support and watched him die. But no, I've never shot someone and killed them."
It was still a mark of pride for her, that Gail had never shot anyone. Never killed anyone. Steve had shot people before, as had her mother, but not her father. Bill Peck had arrested hundreds and never shot anyone. It was, he'd said, a mark of last resort. If a cop went their career without hurting anyone, they were a great cop.
Privately Gail felt that the injuries Bill had done to his children were enough. But he had a point.
"Hand me the gun," she said to Keith. "Hand me the gun and this is over."
He said nothing.
Over his shoulder, Gail could see the glint of someone with a rifle.
Shit. Time was up.
"You have about ten seconds to put the gun down, Keith," she told the man before her. "ETF is in position, they're going to shoot. That's standard operating procedure." Gail had no idea why her voice was so calm, but it was. She swallowed and held a hand out. "Give me the gun, Keith."
The barrel wavered. A decade or three ago, Gail might have entertained the thought that she could get the gun out of his hand. But she was in her fifties, and while she was fit, that was a move for her daughter. No doubt Vivian could disarm someone and save the day. Or at least Vivian probably thought she could.
Gail was not the action hero. She could only stand there, hand outstretched, waiting.
Seconds ticked by. And then the weight of a handgun was in her palm. Gail nearly pissed herself with relief. "Put your hands on your head," she told Keith, gently.
He nodded and complied.
God. She had it. Quickly she checked the gun was safe and Gail raised her free hand, flashing the all clear sign. Then she concentrated on her breathing. Calm.
A heartbeat passed and ETF rolled in. Including a tall, familiar woman, who barked an order that sounded just like Gail's mother... "Frazer, cuff him." And the agent with the name Peck on her chest held out an evidence bag to Gail while Frazer read Keith his rights. "Inspector."
"Officer," replied Gail to her daughter. Somehow, Gail's hand and voice were not shaking. Fuck if she knew why. "Who's outside?"
"Inspector Smith, Officer Saun. The usual suspects." Vivian sealed up the bag and turned her head slightly. "Weapon secured." Her eyes took on a distracted look, concentrating on what she heard. "Yes sir," she said slowly. "Ma'am, Smith wants to know if you want to talk to the press."
The press? Gail looked past Vivian and realized there were quite a few news trucks rolling up. "I'll do it. God knows he'd have to clear it with me anyway."
Vivian made a face. "Catch that, boss? Copy." She reached up and tapped her ear. "Chloe's with Mom and Ollie in your office," said Vivian quietly. "Celery's probably there now too. John's outside with your gear."
"Bless him." Gail exhaled loudly. "Okay. Get him in here. I'll clean up in back."
"Is it clear?"
"Yeah, he was in here the whole time." Gail gestured to the cut and colour area.
Vivian nodded, tapped her radio back on, and relayed that. She didn't ask if Gail was alright. As if she didn't want to know, or possibly more she couldn't process both being a cop and a daughter in the same moment.
It was the same as Gail at that age, really. God, when Gail was that age, she'd been screwing up her life with Holly for the first time. Gail was not surprised when Vivian squeezed her shoulder and headed out.
Gail slipped into the bathroom to wash her face and quickly apply makeup. She hated that part of her job, but it was necessary when facing the media. The lights washed her pale skin so much. Gail stared at herself in the mirror.
She wanted to call Holly, but her phone was in pieces. Damn it. And anyway, if she called she'd probably break down crying. Gail looked at her hands. There were some tremors but they seemed to be controllable. Maybe she'd luck out and not have any flashbacks.
Hah. Fat chance. This sort of shit was rife with nightmare fodder.
"Hey, Gail?" A rap at the door alerted her to John's arrival. "I've got your badge and gun."
Gun? Gail opened the door and eyed her sergeant. "My guns and my badge are locked up at home."
"And your kid knows the combo. I picked 'em up when I got your green blazer. Holly said it'd do."
"Jesus you're a bunch of fucking stylists." She pulled on the jacket and quickly situated both gun and badge. And fuck them, she looked good. "I'm changing the combination tonight."
"Good. That kinda responsibility makes me queasy." John smirked. "I can't believe you talked him down."
"Me neither. Kinda makes me wonder what the game was."
John frowned. "You think he was playing something?"
"The whole thing felt off. You know how that ass, Joe Hartford lied to us about killing his wife?"
"There's a long time ago," muttered John. Joe had admitted to killing his wife, but lied about the why. The problem was that the lie was very believable — a jealous husband. They'd not sorted out the real why until almost a year later, when the offshore account had been found. Money. So mundane.
"Right, this guy gives me the same vibe." And she detailed what had happened, from the moment she heard the screams on.
John listened intently and then looked back out the front door. "I'll keep an eye on him then."
"What happened with the gang?"
"Nothing big," shrugged John. "ETF showed up, cordoned off the area, told them to stand down, and the ones who didn't bolt folded like a cheap suit." He paused. "What does that even mean?"
"It's a mashup. Cheap suits are made of super light, shitty, material, without a lining. They fold really easily. People who fold under pressure stop working and break down faster."
"Ah. Like a cheap suit." John nodded, knowingly. "Anyway. They didn't do a whole lot of damage, except to the front of the shop."
"Damn..."
"Yeah. Oliver was pissed in that dad way he gets."
Gail smiled. Good. It was good that Oliver was there. "They say anything about what they wanted?"
"Just Keith's head." John shrugged. "I don't know. People are fucking weird."
Wasn't that the truth. "Who've I got out there? Kid just gave me coppers."
Her sergeant scowled. "You won't like it. Ioan Carson from CTV."
Gail did not like it. "Shit. He hates me."
"Seriously. Did you dump him or something?"
Flipping John off, Gail checked herself in the mirror, shoved an earpiece in, and went out the front door. The walk was, as Elaine told her, the most important thing. Head held high, arms to the side, and walk like she was going to eviscerate someone. The murder walk. It was so simple. Hold the core tight, shoulders down and neck long, and death.
Long before Charlize Theron explained that to the world, Gail had learned it from her mother, who got it from her own mother, who got it from her mother. It almost always went back to Miranda. Murder. Murder. Murder.
The second she stepped outside, cameras flashed in her face. "Geeze, give me a break," she growled at the masses.
They laughed. Someone asked, "Inspector Peck, were you sent in?"
"No," she replied, trying to find the face behind the lights. "Serendipity. I was getting a haircut." Gail glanced over her shoulder and winced at the damage. God. She hoped Celery had generous insurance.
"Is this your normal salon?"
"Is Celery Shaw related to retired Inspector Oliver Shaw?"
"Is that your natural hair colour?"
The last question made her laugh. "Sorry, but anyone who thinks this is my natural colour needs to hang up their credentials."
The group laughed. Carson spoke up, "Inspector, what did the gunman want?"
"I can't disclose that at this time," she replied. "Come on, Carson. You know how this goes. I can't tell you what happened in there. It'd ruin anyone's chances at a fair trial. And everyone deserves a fair trial."
Carson scowled at her a little. "Can you tell us anything?"
"I can. I can tell you there was no one injured inside the salon. I can tell you that the only fatality was my phone, which is an event I've been told is not covered by extra care." Someone in the back laughed. "I can tell you that the gang violence was isolated and targeted, but ETF resolved it without loss of life."
"What about motive?" Carson pressed. "Reports say the Squeaky Shoe Gang was after someone named Keith."
"I can't speak to that," Gail said cooly. Seriously? The Squeaky Shoe Gang? Did they intentionally pick names that were stupid? Did they plan to make the cops laugh so hard they'd fail to chase after? It didn't work.
"Can you speak to the increase of drug smuggling in the area?"
"It's not department policy to discuss open cases, Carson." She shot him a disdainful look.
Her radio popped to life. "Peck, SSG is unrelated to any drug activity on my radar." That was Traci.
"But," said Gail, before Carson could try again. "The two situations appear to be unrelated."
That gave Carson a startle and he eyed her. He knew she hadn't known before, so he was clearly suspicious. It was a game she'd played with him for years. As he dithered, another reporter, younger than Vivian, lifted her hand and spoke with a shaky voice. "Can you speak to the location? Was the spa targeted?"
"First time here, huh?" Gail grinned as the young woman blushed. "The spa appears to be convenient, not a target, but again, I can't speak to the motives."
The news reporters went on for a half hour total, until finally it was safe to dismiss them and tell them the police would make a statement later in the week. Yes, they would be available for questions once they had more information. Yes, they would be in support of the spa getting a new front.
As the ending dragged out, Gail felt more and more nauseated. It happened still. She hated being stared at like that. Everyone was looking at her, for a long time, and it just made her sick to her stomach. Stage fright. That was what it was called.
She managed to hold it together until she walked around to where the police cars were parked. The lights were flashing, though the sound was off. That was when the stress of it all caught up with her and Gail found herself leaning over, hands on her knees, nearly hyperventilating.
Of course she got caught in a memory. The bouncing in the trunk. The sounds of the sirens. The taxi stopped. She heard muffled voices, unable to tell them apart, unsure of what she was even seeing or hearing. The world had held a too-sharp quality, where the edges were nearly blurry with the sharpness.
"No, no, its fine," said Traci to someone. "Go tell Sgt. Simmons to bring a protein bar and some water."
Footsteps approached and retreated, and a warm hand rested on her upper back. "M'fine," managed Gail.
"And I'm pregnant again," replied Traci, sarcastically.
It made Gail cough a laugh, which then led to the one thing she'd been trying to hold back.
Vomiting was not fun. It was officially Gail's least favourite thing about the human body. Give her the runs any day, but the damned regurgitation always burned and made her shake worse.
"Ugh, that's so disgusting," she muttered, spitting.
"A little puke isn't a big deal."
Gail glanced up at her friend. "I am reminded of us being stuck in isolation."
Beaming, Traci rubbed Gail's shoulder. "That was a long time ago."
Spitting again, Gail straightened. "Thanks."
"For?"
"Shooing the kid away."
"Oh." Traci smiled. "Gail, people will do nice things for you. Hero."
Gail rolled her eyes. "I'm not a hero. Oliver's a hero. He ran into stuff like that. I just... I made the best of a shitty situation."
From the other end of the alley, a familiar voice cleared his throat. "Oh mighty bottomless pit, I have a high energy protein bar and some water. The bar is from ETF so it probably tastes like shit."
As much as she didn't want to eat it, Gail knew she had to. Her metabolism had its own demands. "Water first." She rinsed her mouth out first, spitting, and then drinking. "ETF hasn't bailed yet?"
"They were taking down their pop up watch tower thing," explained John. "The cell tower whatever the hell it is."
Gail knew what he meant. It was a weird tower they set up to block cell phone signals and track others. As a tool to monitor situations, it was invaluable. Gail would have to ask them if she could send signals on her smart watch. "The spy tower," she said, and took a bite of the food bar.
It really was disgusting, reminding Gail of the time Holly had made her try Soylent as a way to match her impossible metabolism and stave off the migraines she'd suffered one year. Gail had angrily informed Holly she'd sooner date Nick again than eat those bars. This one was not quite as bad.
"She hates it," said Traci as an aside. "Don't you have the peanut and almond butter bars?"
"I do, but you have to refrigerate them." John shrugged. "She can have one when she gets back to the station."
"She's going home." Traci had her best Mom voice on for that one.
"Holly's at the station," said John.
Traci rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'll debrief her in the car."
"There's not much to tell," admitted Gail. "And John has it all."
Traci nodded. "Then we can talk tomorrow. Mind if I run point on this?" Because Traci too was a Peck. And Pecks had each other's backs. But at the same time, a Peck taking point on a case involving another Peck was always sketchy at best.
Gail ran through the possibilities in her head. "There isn't anyone who isn't tainted by the poisoned apple tree in Canada, let alone Toronto," Gail said at length. "Get IA on board with you, but it's not like I was the target."
The ride back to the station was quiet. John knew not to bother talking to her, and Traci didn't push anything more than for Gail to eat the disgusting food bar. When she walked back into the station, Holly was waiting. Not in the Sally port and not in Andy's office, where Gail had a fast debrief much to Traci's annoyance. No, Holly was waiting in Gail's office, sitting on the couch with a mug of tea that was probably cold and forgotten, staring at the ground. Chloe was standing, anticipating Gail's arrival and departing with a quick shoulder squeeze.
The door closed behind her friend.
Gail shifted on her feet and then asked her wife, "Are you okay?"
Holly looked up, surprised. "I'm not the one who was held at gunpoint."
The words hurt a little. Twenty five years and that conversation still came back to haunt her. Gail smothered her wince and sat down on the couch, near but not right next to Holly.
Because Holly had every right to be mad. Gail had broken every promise she'd made since fifteen years ago. Since the night Holly had broken down sobbing because Gail was home and safe. Since the day she'd told Butler she was never going undercover again, and she didn't care if that cost her badge. Since she decided, in her heart, that no matter how much she loved her job and her career, she loved Holly more and would do anything to make her happy.
So the deal was simple. Be smart. Be safe. Plan the attacks. Never go in without protection and backup. Always tell Holly when she was going out.
Not a damn bit of that had happened.
But to say that she was sorry was pointless. It would be true, but it would also not be true. Gail was sorry she hurt and scared her wife. She was not sorry she'd done what she'd done. It was the right choice, possibly the only choice, and it had saved many people, including Celery.
Speaking of. "Where are Ollie and Celery?"
"Celery made him take her home as soon as you were on the news. They were here." Holly looked around. "I'm not mad."
"Really?" Gail arched her eyebrows.
"Gail... I know who I married." Leaning back, Holly looked a bit exhausted. "You were there and you made the call. Don't second guess the officers in the field."
"Yeah..." Gail trailed off. "I'm not sure what to say."
Without looking at her, Holly reached a hand over and found Gail's. "I was terrified."
This time Gail did flinch. "I—" She cut herself off. "I love you, Holly."
"Oh, I know, honey." Holly's eyes opened and she looked sad. Old. God. They were both old. "You look like ass."
Quirking a smile, Gail scooted a little closer. "Don't you think I look tired?"
Holly laughed softly. "You know what sucks the most, Peck? You'd have done that if you were 90 and retired."
"Yeah, probably," agreed Gail.
"I know who I married, Gail," said Holly, her voice a whisper. And she sat up straight to look at Gail. "I love you, you idiot. I love that heart." Her voice tightened. "God, I was scared he was going to kill you."
"I was scared I wasn't going to get to say goodbye," she admitted quietly.
"I don't want to ever say goodbye," Holly said, fiercely. "I want to just have you, have us forever."
"You know that's not how it works, nerd," she pointed out.
"I know." Holly bit her lip and moved in, wrapping her arms around Gail and burying her face in Gail's neck. "I know."
Eyes closed, Gail held her wife close, rubbing soothing circles on Holly's back. "I don't know what to say."
Holly squeezed her. "I don't know how long I can do this, Gail," whispered the doctor.
Two decades ago, Gail would have panicked and thought Holly meant them. Now she knew Holly meant this. This pain. This work. She meant she didn't know how long she could take Gail being in danger and possibly hurt. "I didn't mean for this to happen." Her voice was a whisper.
"I know, and it's not your fault." Holly sounded sincere and tired. "You were off the clock getting a damn haircut."
"Which you haven't even commented on."
Holly stiffened and then laughed. She leaned back to study Gail. "You look beautiful, Gail."
"Tell me something new," joked Gail, and Holly laughed at her. "Can we go home now?"
"Yeah." Holly smiled. "Where's your car?"
"At home. Kid made sure someone dropped it off." That probably meant that Vivian herself had taken care of it, or that Christian had.
Holly drove them home in silence. There wasn't anything to say, not really. Gail knew her wife was stressed and scared and hurt. It wasn't Gail's fault, and it wasn't Holly's fault. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it was a case of Gail being who she was and doing what she did.
The garage held Gail's car but the house had no Vivian. Interesting. Maybe she knew Gail needed some space.
"I'm going to shower," said Gail. "Should we order out?"
"No, I want to cook."
"Please yourself." Gail locked away her badge and gun, changing the passcode by reflex, and was halfway through her shower before her hands started shaking.
She'd been hoping her nerves wouldn't do that, though really Gail knew better. Take a traumatic situation where Gail Peck was held at gunpoint, and the odds of a flashback were pretty damn high. She closed her eyes and remembered the gun in her face. Not this gun, not Keith and his gun. No. Ross Perik.
It wasn't a gun though. Perik had slammed the door in her face and she'd gone for her gun. There was a lamp and a needle and... Gail grimaced, feeling a wave of nausea ripple through her. No more vomiting, she hoped, and concentrated on breathing for a moment.
Opening her eyes, Gail recognized she needed to not look away. Closing eyes only worked when the reality was worse than the memory. And Gail's memory was of a pretty crappy day. One of the worst days of her life.
Gail stared at her hands and grumbled. They were shaking badly enough that turning off the water took a few tries, and towelling herself dry was a laugh. Great. It was going to be one of those days. The days where abject terror stopped her from doing anything.
It was a small favour it waited until she'd gotten home. But now Gail couldn't even make a sound. Damn it. This was what happened when psycho parents told someone to shove their feelings deep inside. She managed to pull on sweats before the rest of her started to shake and Gail sat on the floor beside the bed, waiting until it was over.
There was really nothing she could do about those panic attacks. They were rare and so few and far between that her therapists, all of them, had been at a loss. She didn't always have the shakes after every dangerous op either. Sometimes her brain had no problem sorting out its angst. Sometimes she was scared, but not terrified.
Today was not that day. Today, the gut churning horror of being held hostage and then at gunpoint overrode everything. It was so very much like a night, after Oliver had been kidnapped, where the memory of her past swallowed her whole. Where she'd cut off her hair and had way too much to drink and had to be salvaged from her abyss by a woman she only just knew as a friend, but needed so very much in her life.. Tonight, Gail was trapped on the floor, unable to even ask for help from her wife.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. "Earth to Gail. Do you want wine, beer, or something clear—" Holly stopped. "Oh, honey." Her voice was the soft and tender Holly who had sat up with Gail through nightmares and flashbacks before. Not sympathy and looking down, but love.
Without another word, Holly sat down beside Gail. She didn't try to hug or restrain Gail, she just leaned until their shoulders were touching. Gail opened her mouth to try and say she'd like to be held, and got stuck on the first word, repeating 'would' and 'I' few times before giving up.
And yet, Holly knew. Of course Holly would know and hold her. The warm arm came around her shoulders and Holly tucked Gail into an embrace, just holding her there. Grounding her. Holding her until, finally, the shaking stopped. It drained out of her, like the tail end of sobbing tears, shuddering and leaking one or two more, before it just ended. The storm was over on its own accord.
"I don't know how long you can keep doing this," said Holly gently, caressing Gail's hair.
"Me neither." Gail closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of her wife. That was better.
"Is it worse?"
She thought about that for a moment. "No." It wasn't worse than it had been. It was better to many degrees.
The panic attacks had faded, or become managed. Manageable. Gail still ached from the trauma, but in the same comfortable way she ached from Holly, and yes, she was aware of how fucked up that comparison was. But they were the same in a lot of ways. She had found a place in the agony and the ecstasy, the same place, where things hurt but they were a good, familiar hurt.
Guilt and pain didn't have to smother a person. Gail knew that in her head, and her heart was starting to believe it. She would always feel guilty about Jerry, and pain from what she'd survived, but they were like the damaged growth rings on an ancient tree. They were part of her, and she was used to them.
Today had just been another day where someone or something stabbed at the old wounds, opening them up and letting her bleed anew.
Similarly, there were times that Gail looked at Holly and was just awestruck by her beauty and presence. Gail sometimes lost the ability to speak. She would forget what made her annoyed. And she would look at Holly and think only that she was filled with love. A feeling that was so raw and unfamiliar to her those years ago, it had torn her up and lain her bare. Scoured her soul.
Love hurt not because love was pain, but because love made a person feel. Love opened the door to emotions Gail had been ignoring for her entire life. Love ripped off the blindfold and shoved her, staggering, into the brilliant light. And just like the wounds she carried from trauma, she was comfortable with the shocking agony of love.
That was, she realized, fucking masochistic of her.
Closing her eyes again, Gail rested more of her weight on Holly's shoulder. "I'm gonna have a seriously messed up dream tonight."
Holly sighed. "Well at least you already cut your hair."
Gail stifled a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah I did."
Holly chuckled. "Come on, honey. Let me feed you and then we can watch something stupid on TV."
"As long as it's not me." Gail grumbled and got up.
"How'd that go?"
"Eh, I puked after."
Holly looked thoughtful. "Probably due to the gun more than the interview."
"I dunno, it was that asshole Carson from CTV."
"Oh he hates you, honey! Why does he hate you? Was he one of your mom's setups?"
This time Gail laughed fully. "No way. He's way too plebeian."
Holly grinned and started for the kitchen. "Think Elaine would have set me up with you?"
"Hmmm. Daughter of doctors, both critically acclaimed in their fields. Youngest and brightest medical examiner in Ontario. No. She'd have thought you were out of my league."
"Your mother," said Holly firmly, "is an idiot."
"When it comes to dating, I would agree." Gail smiled and followed her wife down to the kitchen. "Damn good cop, though."
"Is it wrong that I'm sad I never got to work a real case with her?"
"I only worked three." Gail inhaled and sorted out the smells. "Leftover hash?"
"The turkey you made last week plus potatoes and pickles and whatever else." Holly waved a hand. "Cooking show or comedy?"
"What about the new sci-fi thing? The one about the plane that lands after being missing for ten years?"
"I thought you said that was trite?"
"It is, but the lead actress is totally hot. Looks like you."
Holly rolled her eyes. "The things I put up with."
It was, Gail felt, much easier to go through the bad times with Holly. She had not lived a gentle, simple life, and the scars sat deep in her psyche. Gail was never going to be able to ride in a taxi without risking a panic attack. She was always going to have vivid dreams that were half memory and half nightmare of what she'd seen and survived. She was always going to doubt herself.
But having Holly there, who picked her out of the millions of women who should have been throwing themselves at Holly's feet for just a crumb of her brilliance, helped. Having someone who loved her for who she was, in spite of everything else.
So when Gail did have a nightmare and woke up shouting, Holly was there. It was Holly who turned on the lights, wrapped her arms around Gail, and asked nothing. She was simply there. Holly held her until the shaking stopped again, until Gail's heartbeat went back to normal, until her breathing evened out.
Whatever sins had led to Holly being in Gail's life, she would commit them again. If Holly was her reward for the pain, she'd suffer at the hands of serial killers. But. Of a much greater importance than that, if she could never again cause Holly pain that would be more than enough.
How could she possibly begin to tell Holly how much the woman meant to her? Of course Holly knew in many ways and on many levels. Gail told her often that she loved Holly, but sometimes the words felt inadequate. What was felt, what clung to her bones and poured from her heart, was more than the words 'I love you' could impart.
So she didn't. Not then at least. Gail closed her eyes tightly and hid her face in Holly's shoulder.
"Holly," said Gail eventually. "I can't do this forever."
"No, you can't," replied Holly, her fingers making light circles on Gail's back.
Gail's voice was a whisper, but she confessed into the night, "I don't know who I am when I'm not a cop."
"I don't know who I am when I'm not a medical examiner." Holly didn't sound dismissive. She sounded curious. "I think I'll write. And garden."
Gail sighed. "I just want to ... I want to be."
"Well. How about be with me?"
"Uh, news flash, Stewart. We're married."
Holly laughed. "I mean, when you retire, just be with me for a while. Try doing nothing."
Sitting up, Gail eyed her wife. "Have you met me? I get bored on long weekends."
Holly smiled. "You do. I think you could maybe teach a couple courses at the academy. Go back to college. Study art or cooking, but... I think you should try what you said. Try just being for a little while."
It was what she'd said. "What if ..." Gail stopped. "What if I retire when you do?"
"At 65?"
"No. I mean when you do. We do it together."
Holly blinked a few times and sat up. "Gail... I'm older than you are."
"I had noticed," she teased.
"I mean... Honey. If you retired when I do..."
"Then I'll have more time to be with you." Gail bit her lower lip. "Holly. I love you. I love spending time with you. And unless you're thinking I'd drive you nuts, I'd like to retire with you. Go on a... a four month holiday."
Her wife laughed. "What? Where would we even go?"
"Europe. Amsterdam, and— Vienna! Spain again. Why the hell not? We can afford it and seeing all those places with you, I love it."
Holly shook her head. "That sounds... that sounds fun." Leaning over, Holly kissed Gail softly, her lips just brushing. "You're insane, but I think that would be fun."
"Me too." Gail smiled, feeling lighter at heart than she had in days.
"You're very unpredictable, honey."
"I try."
"Somehow I doubt that." Holly smirked. "Want to try sleeping?"
"No... but..." Gail hesitated. "Turn off the light and go back to sleep."
Holly frowned. "Gail—"
"No no. I'll stay here. I want to stay here. In bed. Just ... I don't think I can sleep."
Her wife nodded, seeming to understand that. "You're a creeper. Watching me sleep."
"This hot doctor told me it was resonance."
They both laughed and settled back into the bed. "Hot doctor, huh. Bet she was sexier than she was smart."
"You'd lose. She's smart and sexy."
"Hm. She must have some failings."
"Socially inept. She hates people, especially fake happy ones, and can't flirt to save her life."
Holly giggled. "At least she's sexy."
"Spoilers. I'm in love with her mind."
"I hear she's pretty smart."
"Smartest woman I know."
With a deep sigh, Holly's body relaxed. "I love you, Gail."
"Mmm. Good. That would have made all the times I touched your boobs awkward."
"Go to sleep, you asshole," muttered Holly.
And Gail smiled, letting Holly fall asleep. She didn't mind not sleeping since at least she was around her wife.
The real question remains: how long can Gail keep doing what she does? We don't know yet.
This was not meant to be a Gail Only chapter, but it worked out that way.
