05.05 - Going Under
Christmas comes with a shocking surprise of murder.
What? It's a crime drama.
"If we have kids, I'm not lying to them about Santa," said Vivian from the couch.
"Fair enough," replied Jamie.
Gail arched her eyebrows and noticed Holly giving the mixing bowl a death grip. "If," she informed her wife.
But Holly's hissed response surprised her. "We."
"Don't count your diapers before they're crapped," warned Gail, softly. She took the bowl away from Holly and placed it on the table. "If. They're barely older than I was when we met, sweetheart." Gail cupped Holly's face with her hands and drew her closer to kiss. "Remember how dumb I was?"
As they kissed, Holly smiled. "You were an idiot." Holly's hands settled on Gail's waist, pulling her in until they were all up in each other's space. "They already had a big fight."
"Our girl being a giant moron because she doesn't know how to cope with things is not a fight."
Holly made a disgruntled noise and pressed her face into the crook of Gail's neck. "She takes after you."
There was no arguing that. Gail had not been the best adult example in many ways, including coping. "Yeah."
Her wife held her for a moment. "You're a good parent, Gail." Before Gail could scoff, Holly went on. "You gave Vivian a path, a future. Yeah, maybe she's a bit shy on handling personal drama, but she's a good person. And that is half you."
Gail hesitated. "Half you."
"Half me, too, yes."
Well. Okay. Gail leaned back a bit and looked at the couch. "Hey, Viv?"
The brown head popped up. "Yeah?"
"Are you happy?"
"Depends on when dinner'll be ready," she replied, completely deadpan.
Beside her, Jamie laughed. "You're a total shit. And we can't eat until your boyfriend gets here."
"With his boyfriend." Vivian groaned and lifted her watch. "Hey, Siri. Where's Matty?" She studied the output. "Fifteen minutes. Time for a piss."
Holly laughed. "She's a lady, our girl."
"I'm fond of her," said Jamie, watching Vivian head upstairs. "Thanks for inviting me over."
Gail kissed Holly's forehead and disentangled herself. "You're always welcome, even if Vivian has to work." That year, both Vivian and Jamie had been stuck working for Christmas. Neither seemed to mind a belated holiday lunch.
"That would be weird." Jamie stretched and got up. "Can I help, or is this an excuse to make out?"
"Everything's an excuse to make out," joked Gail. "Come on and sous chef. Holly, you've got the salad and bread?"
Holly stage whispered to Jamie, "I'm much better at bread."
It was not a traditional Christmas Eve dinner. Growing up Peck, Gail had never really done a lot of them. Her family tended to have big business parties, schmoozing with the important people in the city, or sometimes she'd be whisked off to the Armstrongs for their galas where everyone was famous except her.
Gail had lost her virginity at one of those, and been entirely unimpressed by the whole matter. Her mother had asked why she'd come home so late, waiting up for her. Gail clearly remembered telling Elaine that sex was overrated. Upon hearing that, Elaine made them both some Peck tea (it was really Elaine tea and not Peck tea, but whatever) and they'd talked frankly about sex.
Those were some of the few good memories of Elaine. That brief period of time where Gail was troublesome and Elaine wasn't overbearing or pressuring her. Armed with a clearer knowledge of history, Gail knew the reasons for that was Harold's retirement and Bill's subsequent failed attempt to rise past Inspector.
At the time, she'd known a small taste of freedom.
The next year, when Bill did find himself locked at the job he held until his death, the overwhelming burden of Peck was thrust upon her. But there had been that small time, that half year of her mid teens, when Elaine wasn't so shitty.
That was probably part of why Gail had been willing to forgive Elaine. Not just because she tried to be there for Gail now, but because Gail remembered the glimpses of the woman behind the mask back then. So had Oliver, and when a person like Oliver suggested all was not as it seemed, it was generally wise to take the words seriously.
On the other hand, Holly had traditional family holidays. Her family trimmed trees and drank egg nog and laughed all night long. Christmas to New Years was usually a whole week of family events. Gail had joined them a few times, enjoying the differences. No, not a few times. A lot of times.
Gail glanced at her wife, currently laughing at a story Matty had told about his work, and she couldn't help but smile. The look caught Holly's eye, who then raised an eyebrow. Gail shook her head a little and was not surprised when Holly leaned in to kiss her.
"Oh god, they're at it again," said Matty.
"Long may they reign," said Vivian, lifting her wine glass. Before she could sip it, Jamie leaned over and kissed her.
Gail laughed as Vivian flushed. "Got you there, junior."
"Bite me." But Vivian put her glass down and gave Jamie a goofy, endearing smile.
"Keep acting like that, Santa's gonna leave coal in your stocking next year," teased Matty.
As one, Gail and Vivian sneered. "Santa isn't real."
Holly, clearly remembering that Christmas twenty years ago, cracked up.
The winter wind made the house creak. Holly sighed and stared at the ceiling. "Maybe we should have gone to see Dad," she said into the dark room.
Beside her, Gail grunted. "He said not to. He's with your cousins."
"Yeah, I know but—"
"Holly. Your father probably doesn't actually want to see a happy couple, one of whom looks very much like his dead wife, on her favourite holiday."
True. Lily loved New Years. "Mom's been dead almost two years," said Holly quietly.
The bed shifted and Gail rolled over. "That's not what I meant."
"I know. And it's not what I meant. Just..." She sighed. "It's weird."
Gail gently touched her arm. "I miss her too."
That was it. Holly nodded, knowing Gail would at least notice the motion, and wiped her face. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be a downer."
"Honestly? Can we go back to talking about the kids talking about kids?"
Holly laughed. "Cure my dead mom blues by making me think about being a grandmother?"
"I'll stop dying my hair," said Gail, impishly.
"That alone would be worth it," teased Holly, and she kissed Gail's cheek. "Sun's coming up soon."
"Uuuuugh." Gail pulled Holly's pillow over her face. "You're going to make me watch the sunrise, aren't you?"
They'd gone to bed around three, after having some friends and family over for drinks and dinner and no fireworks. Andy and Nick, Oliver and Celery, Steve and Traci... even Chloe, though Dov had declined. That divorce was still a mess.
Still, it was inching up on sunrise, which Holly loved watching for the new year. "Mmmm. Come on, wifey. Make a wish on the sun."
"I wish I could sleep more," growled Gail.
Holly laughed again and rolled over, sprawling over Gail. "Get up with me?"
With a frustrating groan, Gail lifted the pillow. "I was hoping you'd go to sleep." She peered at Holly's head, affection written across her face. Before Holly could reply, however, Gail's phone started ringing.
Immediately Holly sat up. "Who is it?"
"Dispatch." Gail frowned and tapped her phone. "Peck." Her face grew serious as she listened. "Alright. Where is he?" Rolling her eyes, Gail nodded. "Who's on call?"
As Gail listened, Holly got out of bed and made the sign for coffee. To her surprise, Gail nodded but indicated two. That was not a good thing at all. Holly picked up her phone right as it rang. Well fuck. "Dr. Stewart."
"Uh, I'm really sorry," said the night pathologist. A nice boy named Robin in his 30s who actually loved the night shift. Holly had been delighted to assign him as the lead for nights.
"That's okay, Robin. I was awake."
"I have to ask... are you sober?"
Holly blinked. "Yes."
"We have four dead bodies and they're covered in that Crave drug," explained Robin.
Her blood ran cold and Holly sat on the side of the bed. "Jesus. How... what's the preliminary?"
"Throats cut. It's a goddamn bloodbath here." Robin paused. "Literally."
"Where do you need me?"
"Scene?" And he gave an address.
Gail's hand touched her shoulder and Holly held up a finger. "Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can." She hung up and looked at Gail. "I have four bodies."
"I have my idiot hostage guy in the hospital."
"Was it a knife wound?"
Gail startled. "That was scary. Yes. Gut wound and a slice on his arm."
She'd meant it as a joke. She hadn't meant for Gail to take it seriously. "Well. This isn't good," Holly said dryly, and she recapped her case for Gail.
Halfway through, Gail looked relieved. "Okay. I think it's a coincidence. Keith had a kitchen accident in his home for wayward morons."
"Why isn't he in prison?" Holly didn't understand that in the slightest. He'd held people, Gail, hostage. He should be locked up. And yet Gail and Marcel had argued about it, which didn't feel like Marcel at all, and ... "Oh."
It was a setup.
Gail was planning something.
"Chinese Wall," said Gail, wearily.
Holly sighed. "What if it's not a coincidence? Gut wound from a kitchen accident is suspect."
"If it's not a coincidence ... well. That'll be something to tackle then." Gail went to her closet. "If the wall falls down on its own, it falls, Holly. But for now, you have to trust me."
The thing was, Holly did. She got up and walked up to Gail, wrapping her arms around her wife's waist. "I trust you with my life, Gail." Holly kissed Gail's shoulder and rested her head on the spot. "I trust you with everything."
Her wife exhaled deeply, loudly. Gail's tension eased a little, though not completely. "Thank you."
Doubt. That was the underlying tone in Gail's words. She was doubting herself and whatever plot she was embroiled in. Maybe she doubted the others she was working with. Maybe she doubted her luck. Who knew. Holly squeezed Gail again and kissed her shoulder one more time. Sometimes the best support was made by not saying anything and just providing some physical comfort.
Gail accepted the hug and they both went through their routines of the evening, rushing out to their crime scenes in the familiar way of people who'd been doing the same job for decades. Holly grabbed meal bars, Gail made coffee, and they kissed before driving off into the emergency of the night.
At the scene, a sleepy looking Christian was waiting at the tape line. "Doc, hey, they said they called in the big guns."
"I'm sure you meant that as a compliment, Officer Fuller," she replied, smirking.
Christian flushed. "Sorry. Um, it's been a long night. Viv— Officer Peck is inside with Dr. Simms. We cleared the scene, but ... well. You'll see."
A peculiar statement. Christian wasn't a rookie anymore. Oh, the kids were still a little green, but they weren't newbies. There was even a new class in, as Holly recalled. "Christian, where is your rookie?"
"He's not mine, ma'am. Officer Collins has him this week. The rooks don't start nights until next month anyway."
It was strange to think Nick would be an officer all his life, but they'd tried him out at road sergeant and the stress nearly drove him back to the bottle. Nicks demons kept him solidly in uniform and in the streets. Sometimes Holly wondered if Andy had put off sergeant for so long because of that. Well. She could ask Andy later.
"Just you and Peck then?" Holly still couldn't say that without a bit of a grin.
"Goff and Marovsky are here too. They've got the back."
It must not be a very dangerous crime scene then. Gail used to say that if Gerald was on the scene, it must be safe. Holly always felt that if there was a moron on guard, she should watch her back. Of course, Vivian was in there so it probably was actually safe.
Holly nodded at Christian and walked inside, down the hall, up a half flight of stairs and was assaulted by the rich tang of iron. "Holy shit," she muttered and reached for her mask. The smell didn't bother her. The idea of blood borne pathogens in the air did.
She'd had this job too long, Holly realized.
"Happy New Years," said Vivian, dryly. "Four dead, all presenting as male. All exsanguinated."
"Prejudging our evidence, aren't we?" Holly smirked.
"Oh, just believing our wit." She jerked her chin to the side, where one of the senior officers had a young man wrapped in a Mylar blanket. "Your guys took his clothes. As soon as you clear the scene, we'll have him dragged to the hospital for the rest of evidence recovery."
"Since when have you believed a witness?"
"He has the whole thing on his phone." Vivian shook her head. "We have all the how and the what. None of the why."
Well. That was Holly's job sometimes. "Stand back. I'll try science."
The look on Gail's face was daunting. Gail had a way about her, when she was being a cop, that inspired people to try harder. At one point, Dov said it was because Gail terrorized everyone. But for Vivian, it was because she knew what her mother had seen and done, and that she was still here. Still.
"It's a coincidence," said Marcel Savard, softly.
"I don't believe in coincidence," said Gail.
"It's too much of a coincidence to be coincidental," added Traci.
Then they all looked at Vivian. "The slashes look really fucking similar, Mssr. Savard." She tried to stifle a yawn. "Sorry. This is shift two."
All three officers looked sympathetic. They'd all been there, and Vivian knew it. "If they're related," said Gail slowly. "Then the wall comes down."
"That is a risk," cautioned the Mountie.
Gail just nodded.
They all knew how much of a risk it was. At least, Vivian hoped she did. As far as she understood the mess, Gail wanted to keep Holly out in case she was totally wrong about the problem. And right now, the problem looked like Keith their hostage taker was being funded by the Mounties.
The only thing that made sense to Vivian was he was a plant, but Marcel seemed certain that wasn't the case.
She half listened to her superiors discuss the possibility and probability of the cases being connected. Obviously Keith wasn't the killer, he didn't look anything like the man on the video. At the same time, the witness had said there were others there who got away. Maybe... what if Keith was stabbed there?
That was the trail Gail and Traci were arguing. Marcel was sure it was impossible because of the tracking anklet. Besides, what motive would he have for sneaking out and partaking in a killing spree? What crime or goal did her have.
"What if he's not a criminal," said Vivian, the words tumbling out before she really processed the thought.
The older three stopped arguing. Gail put her phone down. "Continue," she said quietly.
When Gail did that voice, it was terrifying. She had this calmness that was incredibly daunting. Elaine did the same thing. They both expected the world out of a person, and it was overwhelming at times. It made Vivian's heart race.
Vivian swallowed and let the adrenaline rushing through her veins calm her down. "You're thinking he's a criminal. That his motive is personal gain. But he doesn't act like that at all. He was way too quick to agree to, uh, to Gail's de-escalation. And he seemed kind of not upset to be moved to the housing."
Gail's face was perfectly still. Ice queen. That's what they still called her from time to time. Her ability to project impassivity was unmatched. Gail simply excelled at aloofness, even if it was a trait Vivian rarely had projected at herself.
This time, Gail was preternaturally paused. She waited a long moment. "Alright," she said at length. "Go on."
Go on. Okay. Vivian nodded and unpacked the thoughts that had been festering for weeks. "Savard said that the money was missing. But it wasn't reported as missing. So the theory that it's taken from the Mounties is sound, I just don't think it was for criminal activities so much as drawing them out."
Traci sucked in a breath. "But IA would have stopped Marcel already."
"Only if we were impeding their progress," countered Vivian, feeling somewhat bolder. "If he's supposed to follow the money trail and that led him here, then of course they'd let him continue."
"He would be recorded," said Marcel, his accent thicker, probably from stress.
"Not if he was drafted in the academy."
Now Gail moved. She looked surprised. "Oh?" When Vivian nodded, Gail sighed. "Trace. Think you and Marcel could secretly look into if Keith is a spy?"
The other two officers shared a look. Then they nodded. "Yes, yes," muttered Marcel. "I understand." He stood up and grimaced.
"It's worth looking at," Traci pointed out.
"This I am not arguing." But they bickered good-naturedly as they left the office.
Gail watched the door swing closed. "When did Elaine tell you she was IA as a rook?"
That was Gail. She never pulled a punch in her life, realized Vivian. Sighing, she replied to her mother, "When she told me about how she met Bill."
Her mother quirked a grin. "That always put a weird spin on it for me, y'know." Gail shook her head. "You think Keith's a spy like that?"
Because Elaine had been drafted in the academy to spy on her classmates, including a young man named William Peck. Obviously the Pecks hadn't always been as good as they were now, that wasn't a secret. But to think that Elaine spied on the man that became her husband... well. Maybe that wasn't so weird. A lot of spies did that.
"I think it makes more sense than him being, y'know, an actual criminal. His motives make sense. The Mounties are spying on ..." Vivian trailed off.
"Us," filled in Gail, her face still and serious. Gail turned at looked at Elaine's picture on the wall. "We could be the source of the drugs," said Gail softly.
Vivian's mind hadn't gone that far. "God, I was thinking garden variety corruption," she muttered.
"No. I weeded most of that out when you were twelve." Lacing her fingers together, Gail's eyes didn't leave the picture. "The Pecks were pretty bad for a pretty long time, kid," she remarked.
"I know."
And really, Vivian did. At least, now she did. Before, when she was young, and even after she'd been indoctrinated into the cult of Peck, Vivian only had a vague idea. The older she got, the more Elaine told her, though. Many times, Vivian would stay up all night talking to her grandmother about the history of the Pecks. Once she turned eighteen and made her plans known, Elaine had turned the chats into lessons.
It was possible Vivian actually knew more than Gail did at this point. According to Elaine, she'd not wanted to let Gail know more than was necessary. For her own good. Once, Vivian asked if Elaine had thought Gail to have developmental problems, or if she was on the autism spectrum.
Her grandmother had looked forlorn. Elaine had always known Gail was smarter than she was empathic. Even today that was true. In and of itself, an aloof Peck wasn't abnormal. The problem was Gail was terrifyingly quick at learning languages and at reading. And those talents didn't fit with the plan for children of Pecks. Not the plans of Bill at least.
Harold Peck had seen the brilliance in his youngest grandchild. Not too terribly long before he slapped Steve, for being average, Harold had implied that Gail could be used.
The very idea chilled Elaine to her bones, she'd explained. For Elaine had seen the broken man Bill's older brother had become. Gail would be utilized as a white shirt, propped up and asked to do some of the more unspeakable things. The things that had prompted Elaine to spy on people named Peck in the first place.
Because yes. Harold was the root of it all, that bastard. And Harold would have chewed Gail's brilliance up, spat it out, and left her a shell. Empty. Corrupt. And he wouldn't have cared.
So cutting Gail out, pushing her aside, pressuring her in a way that never failed to make a child rebel... That was all, every step, a plan to make sure her daughter had a chance.
The only part Elaine regretted was the mess with Holly and the visa. It was, she admitted, far too heavy handed. But she needed to buy time, and Elaine was certain she could fix it. Thank god she'd been right. Betting everything on that chance was a hell of risk.
Vivian couldn't object much with the outcome. The method, yes, horrible. The end result were her moms. And she loved that.
Her mother, Gail just then looked at her. "Yeah. You probably do." Pushing her hands through her hair, Gail grimaced. "That's not why I wanted you here. To out-think me-"
"Mom!"
"No. No. You did. And damn I'm glad for it." Gail smiled in a sort of self-reflective way. Chagrined. Gail Peck was chagrined and pleased to be upstaged in that moment.
A feeling washed over her.
Vivian had never once felt like a real, full, ready to save the world cop before. She felt like a naïve rookie, a baby, who was just trying like hell to be a grown up. Pretending- faking it until she made it. Vivian knew she was green and inexperienced. She still was. But she was learning every day.
But that look on Gail's face was something she'd never actually thought about. A look of approval not as a parent but as a senior officer.
Gail — Detective Inspector Gail Peck approved of her, Constable Vivian Peck.
And Gail had another job for her.
"What can I do?"
It was four days before her daughter— No. It was four days before her junior officer had a decent answer.
"He did it with software," she said with absolute certainty, putting a tracking anklet on Gail's desk.
Gail had never seen Vivian so sure of anything in her life. Not even the time she said she was going to be a cop, in a way Gail knew it would be impossible to talk her out of.
"You— You can't hack these," said Marcel, dumbfounded. "Any attempt to manipulate sets off an alarm."
Vivian smirked in a way Gail recognized from a million mirrors and photos. "Hardware, yes. The software has to push the signal out, though. So we can track them."
"Yes," agreed Marcel. "But this is a one way signal."
"No such thing," countered Vivian. "And even if was was, even without a receiver, you can blast and override."
Traci spoke up. "It can't be one way anyway, Marcel. If it was, how would we change the radius. Right? We update the database, it pings out with location, and it has to know when it's outside otherwise how does it go from ... er ... green to red?"
"Simplified, but essentially correct." Vivian glanced at Gail who nodded. "There are two kinds. The house-arrest variety sends a radio signal to a fixed receiver in the house. The GPS kind ping a satellite."
Under his breath, Marcel muttered. "I thought those used a cell phone."
Gail smiled. "They did back in the mid-2000s and up until early 2020s. Remember the debacle with the US Senate?"
Everyone shared a rueful smile. Those had been rough times. But the technological outcomes, following things like hospital hacks, ransomware, and wiretapping, had resulted in a disturbingly robust security community. Surveillance technology as well as the capabilities of blocking it had exponentially skyrocketed.
"So." Traci cleared her throat. "How can you tell he jimmied the signal?"
"The delay." Vivian tapped her tablet and Gail's wall sprung to life with a map and a blue dot. "Here's what a normal GPS recording looks like."
The blue dot traversed the map, showing his route for the day.
"Spends a lot of time at home," said Gail.
"A two block radius," noted Marcel. "He is able to go to the convenience store. The laundromat. The coffee shop. All locations are monitored and he is under surveillance. Cameras. Again, this theory of yours—"
"It's easy to avoid the cameras," said Gail and Traci at the same time.
Gail went on. "Come on, Marcel. You know that. All CCTV cameras have flaws. Weather problems, video manipulation. Hell, look at me! I'm always going to stand out. Physically, no matter where I am. I can hide from them and make it through downtown without setting off an alarm."
"You're a Peck!"
"I can do it too," said Traci. "So can Chloe. Actually, she's amazing. We totally lost her on that last run," she added, gleefully. "The point, Marcel, is that cops do this stuff."
Marcel frowned deeply. "Lions."
"LEOs," corrected Gail, catching the accidental malapropism. "Yeah, cops and military and even PIs and rental cops. The good ones learn this. The best ones..." She gestured at the screen.
Vivian arched her eyebrows, much like Holly did. "Should I explain or..." Gail shook her head and Vivian nodded back. "Uh, I was saying the delay. On the left are the time stamps for the GPS pings. They're super regular. Every 90 seconds if he's outside the house."
"How does it know the difference?" Traci looked interested.
"Passive versus active pings. When you're inside the house, it sends a ping on the regular. When you're outside, the tracker has to do it." Vivian hesitated, as if for questions, and was so much like Holly, Gail struggled to not smile. "But those pings, they happen even if you don't move, and they take a standard amount of time."
Gail blinked. "The delay was in the connection from the in house transmitter to the anklet?"
Her daughter nodded. "Microseconds. And usually it's femtoseconds."
"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" Marcel looked shocked. "Micro is ... millionth?"
"Femto is 10 to the negative 15th of a second," said Gail. When Marcel and Traci blinked, she snarled. "Come on, you've met my wife."
"It's one quadrillionth, or one millionth of one billionth, of a second." Vivian just shrugged and put a new chart on the wall. "So here's last week. All Keith's pings while he's in the house." The numbers were consistent, everyone agreed. "Here's New Years."
The numbers were still small, but there was a delay. There was a visible, noticeable, delay. For some reason the pings took longer on that one day.
"How the fuck..." Gail sat up straight and read the numbers. "Wait. When you round up..."
Her daughter grinned and put up another chart. "When you only look to a centisecond, one one-hundredths, it looks reasonable. It looked good at milliseconds too."
Gail was flabbergasted. "What the hell possessed you to look at that!?" No one in their right mind would keep looking down past milliseconds. It was ... Well.
It was the sort of obsessive digging Holly loved to do. To peel back layer after layer. But Holly stopped once the evidence was found and understood. The answer was the truth, and the court cases bored her. She loved to talk about the how, not the why.
"To make sense of this." Vivian brought up a new map. Actually two maps. One with the date and time of the New Years Eve crime, the other from Christmas Eve.
The second Gail compared them, she realized what Vivian had seen. The patterns were right there and the two looked similar, but. "Show me his second month," Gail said quietly.
Vivian obliged. "Those were the only holidays, really," she explained.
"No. No. This is fine."
Marcel was grave. "I was prepared to say you were giving her allocation for being your daughter, Gail. I apologize."
"Jesus," whispered Traci. "How'd he do it?"
"Well. That's the delay thing." Vivian scratched her chin. "First I thought he was doing an Ella Fitzgerald. Copy a previous day, repeat it. No one compares them unless they have to. But none of them looked right. And he didn't have a pattern. But... that was when I saw the difference between the holidays. Christmas is smooth. You can follow things and the lines make sense. New Years it's jerky, all over the place, and almost nonsensical. Unless he had a UTI, cause no one hits the john that many times."
Gail stifled a laugh. Of course her kid knew about Memorex. "So you saw the difference. Then what?"
"Then ... then I thought if I wanted to make the signal look like I was in the house when I wasn't, I'd just make a repeater and transmit my own signal from my phone. Like putting your cell on the wifi for boosted calling?"
"En anglais s'il tu plait?"
The youngest officer hesitated. No. She planned. Gail could see Vivian rewriting her explanation. "Back in the early 2000s, everyone used to get these cheap phone signal boosters. Pay the phone company $300, get a weird wifi device that let you get a cell signal in your basement. The calls would still come from your phone, but the mini towers made the signal better."
Marcel nodded. "I understand," he said, without any rancour. He was, like Gail and Traci, fascinated.
"It's an old trick. During the Egyptian rebellion, it was done with Pringles cans and tin foil." Vivian shrugged. "The point is that you can totally boost your own devices distance. And that includes both the transmitter inside the house and the one in the tracking device."
"But..." Traci frowned. "The location would still show where he was."
"Right, and it would still be so fast there wouldn't be a perceivable delay. I'd have had to go past femtoseconds to find a disparity. To make the signal take long enough to show a difference at the level I found, he would have had to be hella far away, or he had to be processing the signal." She grinned. "He wrote software, or someone did, to map his outside activities and replace it with ones that look like they're from inside the house."
That was crazy. Brilliant. But crazy. "Can you reverse engineer that?" Gail looked at the wall thoughtfully.
"The remapping sure. That's easy," said Vivian dismissively. "Anyone can write an algorithm that changes point a to point b. But actual booster, that was hella hard." She pulled out a Pringle's can from her bag and put it on the table. "I tested it with the dummy you gave me. This gives you a range of two extra blocks, if it's a clear sight. He went a mile, so I think he bounced off cell towers, or used his phone to app it. But yeah, you can do it. Hell, just send out a slightly stronger matching signal back to the house."
"If you knew the signal frequency," said Gail, looking at Vivian right in the eyes.
"Which a cop would know," replied her daughter.
"Son of a bitch." Gail leaned back, feeling flabbergasted. "What the hell is his end game..."
"Money or drugs," offered Vivian. "Best I can figure, either he's investigating us for criminal activities or the Mounties."
Marcel made a noise and looked like he'd bitten into a shit sandwich. "We need to talk to him."
"He's in the hospital for his kitchen accident," Traci said carefully. "It was infected and he's resistant to antibiotics."
"Damn super bugs. Bring him in, Trace. I want to talk to this idiot."
"It won't make us suspect?" Traci was already getting up as she asked.
"No." Marcel was certain. "Since he will not explain who hurt him, or how, we are well within rights. I would, in fact, pressure him with a suggestion of a return to prison."
Gail nodded, fighting to quell the queasiness in her gut. "Fuck, he killed a guy. We let him kill someone, Marcel."
"He would have killed in prison, most likely," said Marcel. He sounded dismissive but Gail knew better. He too carried that guilt. "Young Peck, can you, ah, work with someone trusted to reinvent this wheel?"
Vivian looked confused for a moment. "The booster? Uh. That would be Dr. Ames, really." She looked at Gail, worried.
"Ah. I'll talk to Holly," she demurred.
Yeah, Holly was going to kick her ass about all this.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Holly counted to ten. Three times. "You're trying to secretly investigate a possible Mountie plant who is probably secretly investigating you or the Mounties for illegal drugs and/or money laundering?"
Her wife sighed a very guilty sigh. "Basically yeah."
Holly had to count to ten again.
She'd never actually done that before meeting Gail. It was just ... Sometimes the blonde would drop a truth on her, announce a fact like, oh, she was just investigating the RCMP, nbd, and then scamper off before Holly could collect her thoughts. In Gail's world, life came fast. Holly's world, science, took its time and went at its own pace.
The good thing about all that was Gail actually could be patient, from time to time. When Holly needed to process, unless she said something, Gail was quiet and didn't distract. That first day in the lab together, Gail was as quiet as a mouse, except when it was okay to talk.
Many months later, after a kiss and a fight and a visa and some very awkward times, Holly had asked why Gail was so good at being quiet when necessary. Her then ex-girlfriend had shrugged and explained she was a Peck. That was what was expected.
Holly looked at her wife. "Why didn't you want to tell me?"
"A few reasons," admitted Gail. "Primary was I was, and am, worried they'll take advantage of you. Use you to get to me."
That was something Gail had often been vocally concerned by. People would use Holly to hurt Gail. Which translated to people being willing to hurt Holly to hurt Gail.
"Fair enough," agreed Holly.
"The other was ... if I was wrong, I didn't want to torpedo both of our careers."
"Just yours and our daughter's," Holly said, a little more acerbically than intended.
Gail didn't flinch. "If it came to that, I'd use nepotism to take the hit for her."
As much as the situation appalled Holly, the fact that Gail, like her own mother, would readily fall on the sword for her daughter did a lot for Holly's heart. "What changed?"
Now Gail hesitated. "Vivian found evidence." She held out her tablet, unlocked, and Holly took it by reflex. "Your New Years Massacre was attended by our hostage taking drug running idiot. He has an infected cut with the same pattern."
Holly frowned. "Gail, I love you but you know we can't match up cuts like that. There are just too many variables."
Holding up her hands, Gail quickly explained. "The time of the injury, the trace evidence left in the cut, and the really fucking stupid cover story. He claimed he slipped and cut himself in the kitchen and pulled his back. It's the..." Gail leaned over to tap the file. "You said it yourself. Kitchen injury is hella suspect."
With a glance, Holly knew it was a lie. One of the cuts, maybe, but never both. "Not unless he was left handed, and somehow held his knife..." She tried to demonstrate. "Even at my most flexible, that's impossible. And his dorsal..." Holly reached back. "Remember when I broke my wrist and couldn't undo my bra or my watch?"
Miraculously, Gail didn't leer. "I do."
"There are parts of your body you just can't stab, Gail. Or slash. That's one of them." There was no human way to wrench an arm around like that. "Well. Actually. Is he double jointed?"
Gail shook her head. "Nope. And this is the knife he claimed to have used."
Holly eyed the weapon. "Uh, no." It was too skinny and long, first of all.
"Aaaaand," sang Gail. "This is the wound right when EMTs got there. Supposedly less than fifteen minutes."
Holly regarded the wound. It was clotted. "Uh huh. We got our calls at the same time, but yours was for him in the hospital and mine was for the end ... yeah, that's at least an hour, with direct pressure applied."
Her wife was beaming. "I could not possibly love you more, Holly."
"And yet." Holly handed the tablet back. "What's spooked you, wife?"
Gail sighed. "Potential backlash. Honest. These guys don't fuck around."
Twice, Gail had taken on the mob. Once had been a paltry incident that hardly mattered. Two weeks and done. The second though had been so dangerous that undercover cops had kept an eye on Vivian while she was at university. Vivian had known about it, and why. Back then, Vivian the college student was a liability. Something to be taken and used against Gail.
Now it was Holly.
She didn't much care for that.
And she knew that she could walk away and know nothing more. Gail was giving her an out, still. Always. A chance not to step into the danger.
"What do you need?" She studied Gail's face carefully.
Her wife hesitated. "This is a one way street, Holly. You can say no."
"No, I can't," said Holly with a deep sigh. "That's not how I was built."
Gail nodded. She understood. "Ananda. I need a tech to build a something to boost the signal from a tracking anklet, preferably using cell tower boosters like we have all over the city, so the signal is sent back to an in house tracker."
What?
Holly's brain whirred. "Hang on, someone hacked a tracking anklet?"
"Yeah."
"But the GPS-"
"Funnelled through a program that maps the location to some place inside the allowed radius."
"That's clever... that's. That's genius." Holly shook her head. "Who figured that out?"
There was a pause and Gail smirked. "Constable Peck. She figured out both, actually. Tested it and everything. Her report is ... well. It's like yours." Gail extended the tablet again, offering it to Holly as explanation.
Holly almost wanted to sit down. "Viv?"
Her daughter broke a case with not just science, but the science she'd learned getting a degree Holly thought was only to appease a scientist mother. Vivian had used her degree in her job.
Okay, yeah, Holly felt her eyes water. Then she took the tablet back read the report.
"Well, shit," said Holly, and she wiped her eyes. "How the hell did we do that?"
Gail was grinning. "I should be freaked out. This is dangerous stuff, Holly, but ... Goddamn it. Our kid thinks. She's ... she's going to change the world."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Peck."
"You're the one who got weepy over her report."
Holly rolled her eyes. "That's because a cop finally figured out how to properly file one of these." She was impressed, of course, but Gail often had blinders on with their kid. Wasn't a parent supposed to think their child was a genius? Well.
"Whatever," Gail said flippantly. "But I do need Ananda. Unless you've got another genius tucked up in there."
Actually she did. "I have a new tech, as it happens. Pérez. Given your fears, which would be less obvious?"
Gail chewed on her lip. "Shit."
It was a tough question, and Holly knew that. On the one hand, Ananda was unquestionably the best choice. On the other, it was like using a cannon to kill a fly. And that would be fucking obvious. And yet.
Then Gail asked, "Why did the Trojan Horse work?"
Holly did sit down, now, perching on the arm of the couch. Once in a while, Gail's mind wandered off in a strange way. She crafted a bizarre analogy and while Holly never would have dreamed it up, she could understand it. This was not one.
"What do you mean?" She asked Gail hesitantly.
"A big honking wood horse shows up. All the Greeks are gone. Boats, camps, everything. And they bring it inside."
Holly looked up at Gail and frowned. Okay. There had to be a point, or a path to the analogy. "Did they think it was so obvious it was a trap that it couldn't possibly be a trap, or did they think it was a gift?"
"Obviously using Ananda wouldn't be a gift," Gail replied. "But would it be— could it be so obvious that it couldn't possibly be a trap?"
"That's a crap shoot, honey."
Her wife nodded. "Yeah. Yeah I know." Gail grimaced. "I need this to be rock solid, Holly."
"Then you need Ananda."
Morose, Gail nodded.
They'd have to risk it.
It had been the first night they'd both been home and not exhausted in weeks. Christian had taken the hint and gone out to the Penny, giving Vivian and Jamie a night alone.
Maybe a lot of people would have taken that as an opportunity to go out, but Vivian had suddenly understood why her parents hated that. Besides the fact that Vivian really didn't like being around people that much, she found she'd desperately wanted to just be with Jamie. Even if Jamie hadn't been in the mood, Vivian just wanted to be with her.
That was novel. For Vivian at least. But Jamie was one of the few people Vivian found she craved comfort from. Matty was the only other person, besides her parents, and even then, they hugged awkwardly. Still, Vivian clearly remembered when that had changed with Gail and Holly.
Back when Holly had been sick, Vivian had just needed Gail and she was terrified to ask. Even if she hadn't fully understood why, Vivian had recognized that Gail was under a lot of stress. And Vivian worried. How would Gail react? Would she be mad? Would she be angry? Would she be like Vivian's biological father?
And Gail was none of those. She was scared. She was terrified of losing Holly. And that fear manifested not in anger but in love. Even for Vivian, who hadn't been with them all that long at the time.
Sometimes Gail said that it was Lily who had taught her how to show she loved people. Usually Holly would argue that Gail did show it, in her actions. Vivian knew, from what she'd seen of Gail in one of her darkest hours, that Gail knew how to love and she knew how to show it. She knew how to put her own needs behind someone else's.
It was in a completely different way that Vivian knew she needed and could get comfort from Holly. From Holly, it was that horrid morning she'd angrily shouted that Holly was not her mother. That was the moment Vivian knew Holly absolutely was her mother. The reaction, Holly's, had been to love her.
Oh yeah, Vivian knew how damn lucky she was.
And she knew how lucky she was to have the spunky firefighter with a messed up family as her girlfriend. She was crazy lucky to have a second chance of it all. And god help her, Vivian didn't want to screw it up.
One thing Jamie liked that Vivian still struggled to wrap her head around, however, was the idea of eating in bed. But, after sex and a reminder that they were both high energy people, they'd ordered Chinese and were settled on the bed eating out of the containers.
"I still can't believe you answered the door dressed like that."
Vivian glanced down at her Canadiens sleep shirt, which went down to mid thigh. "What? It covers."
"Barely," teased Jamie, who was in one of Vivian's academy training tees. "Its a dress on me."
"Like you wear dresses." Vivian grinned and reached over to steal a potsticker from Jamie's container. Her girlfriend laughed and leaned in to kiss Vivian's cheek. "I doubt he noticed anyway. He was on his phone."
Jamie snorted. "Idiot. Him, I mean. Someone looks as hot as you and answers the door in next to nothing... I'd think I'd walked into a porn."
"Lumberjane porn."
"Hm. You could do dominatrix, though."
Opting not to mention that Gail and Chloe shared that opinion, Vivian just shrugged. She could play the part, but not for real. There was something entirely unattractive about the very idea of hurting someone. Even for play. It just ... It wasn't fun. The biting was probably about as far down the line as she would ever feel comfortable with.
So far that seemed to be alright. She and Jamie had chatted a bit about that, about the kind of sex they each enjoyed. It had been Jamie who'd been far more flustered about the subject. Once Vivian pointed out that talking about sex was just talking about something they both liked, it got easier.
Was it weird that Vivian could talk about that and not the rest of what went on in her head? Dr. Cooper didn't seem to think so. Then again, right now Vivian couldn't even talk to her therapist about work.
Her first foray into the depth of a case, and Vivian had yet to talk to Gail about how a person talked to their therapist about them. Trying to delve into the depraved mind of a killer. Keith the hostage taker wasn't a killer, not that Gail thought. Vivian believed her. He was also still in the hospital with a nasty infection and a fever.
Vivian had speculated he was having a reaction to the drugs or maybe the components. The drugs killed, after all. Vivian couldn't imagine what kind of drug would make people willing to risk everything.
Abruptly, Jamie bumped her shoulder into Vivian's. "Hey, copper. Want to get out of your head?"
She couldn't tell Jamie about the case. Gail had made that clear. Hell, Elaine had. A Peck did not discuss these matters with those outside the circle.
"Did you ever do drugs?"
Jamie blinked. "Does marijuana count?"
"It's legal, so no." It was well legal, internationally, but licensed like cigarettes, which was still weird. Easier to get than tobacco in moderate doses.
Her girlfriend shook her head. "I'm apparently boring. You?"
"Once, but I have ... control issues." Vivian shrugged.
With a sigh, Jamie leaned into Vivian again and rested her head against Vivian's shoulder. "Viv." She stopped. "I mean... given the one time I've seen you lose control, you really did go into raging bitch mode, I do get it. But it can't be healthy."
Vivian closed her eyes. "Dr. Cooper actually said it's not necessarily unhealthy."
The issue wasn't having the anger or the fear, the issue was what a person did with it. The bottling up, though, yeah. That wasn't good. Vivian knew that.
"What's going on with you and Gail? You guys have been weirder than normal."
"Crossover case," she demurred.
Jamie made a noise. She clearly didn't really believe it. "I don't like the whole secrets thing, Peck. You keeping shit up in your head doesn't end well."
"That's not this." Vivian opened her eyes and picked up the last potsticker, using it to buy time before explaining. "This isn't me overthinking a me problem. This is work, and a case, and you know I'm not allowed to talk about this stuff."
Her girlfriend looked up at her with an expression best describe as 'are you fucking kidding me?' That kind of look never failed to get Gail to break and tell Holly everything. Vivian wasn't sure what it meant that it didn't affect her. Oh she knew Jamie was annoyed. But still. She wouldn't tell.
That was after all the very first Peck Rule she learned. If she wanted to be in the club, then she had to know she would hear things that were difficult and hard to understand, and she couldn't tell. Elaine had reiterated that time and again. The secrets had to be kept.
College had been the first time Vivian had wondered if she was getting a different sort of Peck education from Elaine than her mother and uncle had received. She knew that to be true now, though she remained unclear on the full story and reasons why. The phrase 'let sleeping dogs lie' came to mind every time she mustered up the courage to ask. There were some Peck things, some part of the mystery, that was best left alone.
"You're thinking some pretty deep things right now, copper," Jamie muttered. "And you ate the last fucking potsticker!"
"You knew I ate a lot before you slept with me!" The teasing was safer ground, and Vivian smiled.
"Ugh, you're lucky you're so hot, Peck." Jamie rolled her eyes and kissed her.
It was a good kiss. One of the kisses that made a person forget for a moment that they had a sentence in mind. It was a kiss Vivian had felt before Jamie, but never as often as with the spunky firefighter. She smiled into the kiss and leaned in, putting her chopsticks down and immediately yelping as she got sauce all over her hands.
"Damn it." They both shot out of the bed to rescue the mattress from the sticky sweet and sour sauce. "This is why I hate food in bed," she complained to Jamie, who was laughing.
"And here I thought it was because you're secretly 80," teased the other woman. But the bed was stripped and they sat on the floor amongst the rumpled sheets, finishing off the last of the food.
Days like that, getting to relax and enjoy time with Jamie, were rare. Vivian grinned. She couldn't help it. She liked the slice of domesticity. "You're a nut, McGann."
Her girlfriend cheekily wiped her chopsticks on Vivian's face. "You're too buttoned up, Peck," she replied.
When Vivian rolled her eyes and didn't react to the application of sticky spicy flavours to her cheek. After all, she'd grown up with Gail.
The man in the hospital bed looked like shit.
"What, uh, what's going on?" Keith looked at Gail and then at Vivian who was scanning the room with an electronic device.
Gail held a finger up to her lips.
"But—"
"Hey, that means shut your mouth," said Vivian in a growl. "All clear, Inspector."
"Alright." Gail nodded and jerked her chin.
With trepidation, Vivian nodded back and stepped outside. Gail knew her daughter would stand guard as requested. It was a simple duty she had now. Vivian's job was to scan the room for bugs, plant at least one, and then stand guard. Marcel and Traci had vanished, by request, and no longer appeared close to the case.
This. This was a Peck procedure. Blackmail. Entrapment. The dirty stuff Gail learned from watching her parents and uncles and aunts and cousins for years. She knew that Vivian would be listening, and she knew there would be questions later. For now. It was time to do the job.
"So," Gail said as she sat down. "This is complicated."
Keith looked confused. "A cut and infection is complicated?"
"Not usually. This one is." She propped her feet up. "Did you know that the most well respected and accredited forensics department in Canada was based here in Ontario?"
The man looked at her. "Yeah. Everyone knows that. I mean, your ME was the basis for that Netflix show."
Gail filed that away to tease Holly later. "Cut like yours is kindergarten for them, Keith." She pulled out her iPad. "Human physiology. Candy. You can't cut yourself like that, Keith. But you knew we'd know. And you knew we'd know you knew we knew. It's stupid. I don't like these games." Gail turned the iPad around and showed him the video of the the stabbing.
And Keith went pale. "I don't... that's horrible. God, why would you show me that?"
"I thought you'd like to see the consequences of your actions. Since usually you just run like hell."
"I don't... I ... what are you talking about?"
"Keith. Keith. Keith. Please stop playing dumb. That cut on your arm isn't a knife. I thought it was. Hell, we all did. Until our video forensics experts, you know we have those? These lab nerds, they watched that video and ran it through all kinds of tests. And these nerds— I really love 'em, Keith. These nerds found this." She swiped and pulled up the short video of a man bouncing off a wall in his haste to get out.
"Who's that?" Keith's voice cracked as he asked.
Oh yes. He knew.
"It was the shoes, Keith. And the ... Well it was the whole thing. Look at him. And look at that." She froze the video on a moment that caught a weird smear on a wall. "We got samples from that."
There it was. He knew. He knew she had him. "My GPS says I was in the house. Like I'm supposed to be."
"Your GPS does say that. Only we have an expert who proved, with math, that it was faked. Pretty cool. I think it opened up a whole new avenue of research, to be honest."
Keith's voice was a whisper. "What do you want?"
"Me and you, Keith. We're the same. We're loyal." Gail put the iPad down. "To a fault. We'll take the fall for our friends, or people we think are our friends, because it's the right thing to do." She looked at the monitors for a moment. "That's what they don't understand. We're not loyal to people. We're loyal to the idea and ideals of what we are."
"What... What are we?" He was barely audible.
"Cops, Keith," she replied just as softly.
Keith flinched. "I can't..."
Right. This was when it got messy. Gail stood up. "Here's the deal, Keith. I need to get Crave off the streets. I care more about that than this investigation you're in on."
"Investigation?" He forced a laugh. "I'm not..."
"You're not one of mine."
Keith stared at Gail. He was clearly torn. But Gail had outed herself as one who used spies. Who knew about the spies in the system. "Peck?" His voice shook.
Gail nodded. Peck. Exactly so. "Why were you there, Keith?"
The man looked away. "I can't."
"What does the Crave have to do with this?"
Again, Keith shook his head. "I can't."
"Why did someone stab you? Besides the obvious reason of you being there." When Keith shook his head, she went on. "Why were you really running from SSG?"
Keith said nothing.
For two hours.
When she left, Vivian was sitting in a chair by the door. "I honestly can't tell if that was a success," she said to Gail.
"It wasn't." Gail shoved her hands in her pockets. "How many bugs did you plant?"
"Four." Vivian got up. "Do you really think his blind drop would show up?"
"Enough that I have Trace running backgrounds on everyone on this floor." Gail sighed. "He's good."
"He's my age," mused Vivian. "He can't be that good."
That made Gail laugh. "Oh really?"
"Unless he's a Peck. I mean, who the hell else trains kids to be good at this shit?"
Gail stopped in her tracks. Keith had said 'Peck' to her, and she had assumed it was just recognition of the name. What if it wasn't? What if Keith was dropping a clue? Think back. Gail had made a comment that Keith wasn't one of hers. His reply was to ask if she was Peck. Okay. Yes, a lot of Pecks were terrible humans. But they were also the heart of the criminal underbelly of the policing world. It was something Gail extricated the name from years ago.
But just because the name Peck didn't control the dark side of policing didn't mean it didn't happen anymore. And Gail was uncomfortably aware of that. She tried to keep clear of it, not wanting Vivian to be tainted by association more than she was...
But...
There were other families. Not just in Toronto. There were the high profile ones, like Elaine had tried to get Gail to date. Like Winston's family. Oh Jesus. There obviously were Mountie Royalty, just like Toronto and Vancouver and Montréal.
And what if Keith was one of them? What if Keith, like Gail, had been desperate to pick Peck and gotten in way over his head? Because he was a kid, like Vivian had pointed out.
Gail turned and looked at her daughter. Totally confused, but silent, Vivian just looked questioningly back at her. Before Vivian had met Jamie, Elaine had joked that she should help with some blind dates. There was a nice young woman in the Mounties, a little older, but wasn't Vivian's head always older anyway? Holly had argued that's why Vivian needed someone younger, to pull her out of her shell.
But the name. Reynard. Wolfe. No. Something weird and animal.
"Son of a bitch," Gail said aloud. "Everything old really is new again."
"If you say so?" Vivian did not sound sure.
"Viv, who was the Mountie that Mom set you up with?"
Her daughter blinked. "Mountie... Oh. God, that was a horrible date. Alice Martlet."
A Martlet was a mythical bird, meant to imply learning or something like that. And that was where Gail was going to have to start her research into the possibility of Mountie royalty leaving one of their own out to dry.
Had Keith fucked up? Was he still in the middle? Had he been turned?
Gail clapped Vivian on the back. "Come on, kid. You keep having a lot of great ideas."
A lot of people seem to think Vivian would be a good detective. She probably would be. She doesn't want to.
