05.06 - Cold Comforts
The mystery grows ever deeper.
Gail has to figure out who Keith is really working for. Meanwhile, Holly has a mystery of her own when Frankie stumbles across a body that isn't at all what they expected.
Zipping up her coat, Holly stepped out into the bitter mid-January air. "Fuck, I'm too old for this," she said to no one, and reached back in for her hat.
But damn if January wasn't too cold. Her knees hurt a lot more now than they did when she'd been young. God, they hurt more than when she was first dating Gail, and she'd been no spring chicken back then. Holly sighed and hitched her bag higher, crossing the parking lot.
The fire department was standing around, parked by the ambulance and the van from the morgue. There were three cop cars in place. Apparently they were prepared for everything.
"Nice dog and pony show," she said to the officers.
"Dr. Stewart," said Christian, looking sheepish. "I'm really sorry."
"I feel like asking where ETF is," replied Holly.
"They've been and gone. Sabrina threatened me."
Holly smiled. "Well. She's good at that." If Sabrina had been there, then so had her minion, Vivian, and it was a bit sad to realize. Vivian's world was different from Gail's at the same age. She and Holly didn't see as much of each other in the work world.
A familiar voice snorted. "How'd I rate the big guns?" Frankie Anderson looked as annoyed as she sounded.
"I might ask the same of you, Inspector Anderson." Holly shrugged. "I have to keep up my field credentials."
Frankie rolled her eyes. Of course, she'd called Holly directly for the case. It was related to Frankie's ongoing mystery of why so many cases in her division were failed investigations. What this one had to do with the others, Holly did not know, but Frankie asked her for someone sharp. So Holly pulled on her winter coat and went herself.
Truth told, Holly wasn't lying. She did have to do field work to keep her credentials up to date. For as long as she was going to do the job, she had requirements. Of course, retirement never sounded sweeter than it did on a blisteringly cold winter day. Except at three am, any day.
"You missed your kid. She looked disappointed there was nothing for her to play with."
Holly smiled. She should have been annoyed or even worried a little that the police were using ETF so heavily to clear scenes. Then again, she did walk into crime scenes all the time, and they were not always safe. A car, left alone, was definitely potentially dangerous. One had been used as a trap in New York City years ago. If ETF had cleared the scene before the firemen had opened the car, it was a good sign.
"I'm trying hard to be upset she didn't get to play with her toys, and… Yeah. Not happening." Holly rubbed her hands together. "Can we open the car now?"
"I thought you'd want to see it first," said Frankie, and she led Holly over to the piece of shit four door sedan, covered in snow. The door was partly smashed in, most certainly stuck. Well that was probably why the firefighters were sticking around.
She'd seen this sort of thing before. "I remember my first snow-covered DB in a car," Holly said wistfully. "I was so young."
Frankie laughed. "I was in uniform." Everyone had seen something like that. "Same year I saw a car-sicle. Drove right into Lake Ontario."
"Fun times." Holly leaned forward to peer into the car. Something looked off. The body was the wrong colour. "Was the car running for a while?"
The detective shrugged. "I'm not sure. The lot was being emptied and plowed after the snowstorm last week, and this one… Anyway. It's been a while."
There were ways to determine that. Holly sighed and walked to the back of the car, taking pictures of the impressions in the snow from the heat exhaust. "This used to be so much easier when we burned fossil fuels," she lamented and carefully measured the depth.
"Oh, sure. The exhaust from a running car would create a pocket that would, what…?"
"Ice over, creating a mini cave. The heat exchange systems from solar and hydrogen powered cars is a little different." She winced and got down on her knees. Fuck. Getting old really sucked. There was a small ice stalagmite from the ground to the car, directly under the water discharger vent. "It was running," she said firmly, and took photos. "At least for a couple hours."
Frankie made a noise. "Nice work. What made you think of it?"
"Well… your body is still pink."
That caught the detective's attention properly. "There's no- No exhaust, so carbon monoxide?"
"If he suffocated," mused Holly. "Which I won't know until the autopsy."
"Time to get him out?" Frankie extended a hand to help Holly stand.
"Please."
They stepped aside as the firefighters came up to cut open the doors, a familiar short one giving Holly a bit of a grin.
"I can't believe that's still going on," muttered Frankie, watching Jamie help out with the cutting.
At first Holly thought it was an odd statement. Then she remembered Gail had mentioned Frankie and Mac broke up when Mac started talking about retiring. "Sorry," Holly muttered back.
"Nah, it's okay." Frankie shrugged with the same insouciance that Gail often projected. They really were disturbingly similar. "It's weird to know that she was not, y'know, it."
Holly's brain took a moment to sort that out. "You mean you always knew?"
"Yeah. A bit. I do like her, a lot, but we want to do different things." Frankie shrugged again, this time ruefully. "She liked me more when I was talking about hanging up my badge."
"And now, Inspector?" Holly was sure she knew that answer.
Frankie looked around at the firemen carving open a door, and the uniforms guarding a tape line, and the few stray EMTS and forensics nerds. And she looked happy. "This is me, Doc. This is my home, my family. Peck was right. I'm going to die with my boots on, and that's okay."
They were all getting up on that age, where retirement was not only expected of them, but encouraged. "I think," Holly said carefully. "I think that you should be happy, Frankie."
Her decades long friend laughed. "Says the woman who half retired." But then. "Do you regret it?"
Immediately Holly shook her head. "Not a bit."
Holly was going to be 62 in the spring. She still loved her job and her work immeasurably, but she stopped seeing herself doing it forever. The world had changed time and time again, and while Holly had been able to adapt and learn and keep up with the differences, that wouldn't last forever.
Stepping back to doing half her job, and actually planning out retirement in general... No, Holly didn't regret a thing. She was lucky, though. The money from Gail's family allowed her to consider those things. She now had the freedom she'd envied in Lisa as a college student. Choice. Opportunity.
"Uh, Detective, Doctor..." Jamie walked up, her face flushed, but looking a little worried. "We got the door open but..."
Holly and Frankie shared a look. The detective nodded and Holly spoke. "But what?"
Hesitating, Jamie finally decided on an unhelpful reply. "I think you need to see this."
With a sigh, Holly walked over to the car. "It's just a dead body, McGann," she said softly.
"Yeeeaaaaaaaah," Jamie dragged the word out. "That's the ... " She stopped and gestured. "That would be okay."
Would be? Holly blinked and leaned in to get a good look at the body. Oh. Suddenly Jamie's behaviour made perfect sense. "I stand corrected, McGann. I'm sorry."
Jamie scratched the back of her head. "It's weird. I've heard urban legends but..."
"Care to unpack?" Frankie huffed.
"Well." Holly stood up. "I can definitively tell you that it wasn't carbon dioxide poisoning." Both of Frankie's eyebrows jumped. "In fact, it's not a death at all."
"What the..." Frankie angrily strode over and almost pushed Jamie aside. She caught herself at the last second and eyed the young firefighter. "What're you doing? Bucking for a promotion?"
Turning as red as the time they caught Jamie and Vivian on the dock, the firefighter mumbled a yes. Then she excused herself and went over to her truck, where her teammates were laughing and teasing her.
"God, were we ever that young?" Holly shook her head.
"Shit, don't remind me." Frankie stuck her head in to look. "Uh. That's not a person."
Holly smiled. "No, it's not."
It was a store mannequin. Locked in a car with the door bashed in and covered in snow.
It was a mystery.
"It was a mannequin?" Vivian eyed her phone as Jamie recounted the day after she'd left.
"Yeah, and by the way, why is Frankie so weird?"
"Well, she's Frankie."
"Seriously, she's like ... Gail if her parents weren't cops."
Vivian laughed. "Baby, if Pecks weren't cops, Gail would have been whatever they are." Or not. Maybe if Gail's parents had been lawyers, they wouldn't have been so demanding of her to follow their footsteps. Hard to say. Would Gail have her self esteem issues without the pressure of her family?
Well. Might have beens were always hard.
"I guess." Jamie yawned. "I'm gonna crash, Viv. You're on tomorrow?"
"Alas, second shift. Not too bad."
"I'll be home in two days." She paused. "Okay, can I girl for a second?"
"Knock yourself out."
"I really like that I can call it home with you. I like living with you."
A curious, warm sensation ran through Vivian's body. She flushed. Romance was such a weird thing. It gave feelings that were at odds with what a person expected. "I'm smiling right now," she said softly. "And I don't know what to say."
"That's progress," said Jamie just as softly. "I need to sleep, though. For real."
"Yeah, no, no. Sleep. I'll see you day after. Go keep the world from burning down."
"Always. Love you. Bye."
And Jamie did not wait for a reply. She hung up and left Vivian feeling comfortably unsettled. Was that what love was? Something that left a person upended and uncomfortable but somehow perfectly at ease. There was something else underneath the weird warmth.
Vivian sighed and tossed her phone into her locker, chasing it with her head and just hiding like a damn ostrich.
"Someone's having deep thoughts," said Sabrina.
"My money's on deep feels," said Jenny. "Come on, Peckling. Change and come out with us."
From the depths of her locker, Vivian replied. "Change comes from within."
"Uh oh, FireBomb have a fight?" Jenny leaned against the locker next to Vivian. "Again?"
"Ugh, no." Vivian pulled her head out. "No. We're fine."
To her surprise, Jenny looked shocked. "Oh my god. When did you tell her!?"
Vivian blinked. "When did I what?"
She had no idea what was going on, but everyone else seemed to. The whole fucking locker room turned to look. They went dead silent and stared.
"What!?" Sabrina jumped over the bench and stared at Vivian's face. "Holy fuck, you did! Jenny, hold her still. I gotta change."
The evening spiralled out of control rapidly. In half an hour, Vivian was trapped in the corner of a table at the Penny, a beer in hand, and seven women around her age all staring at her. It was actually terrifying.
"Talk," said Lara, still in her detective suit. They'd grabbed her on the way to the Penny.
Vivian swallowed. "Okay..." She looked from Lara to Jenny. "I'm sorry, what am I supposed to say?"
Seven women rolled their eyes in varying degrees of disgust. "Who said it first?" Mel, from ETF, glared at her.
"Said what?" Vivian was exasperated.
There was a short uproar and Jenny cleared her throat. "Ladies. Our Peck is defective and barely speaks girl. Allow me." She exhaled. "Vivian. Who said 'I love you' first?"
What? Vivian stared at Jenny. "How the fuck did you know that?" Even Matty didn't know. Hell, Christian didn't know, and he lived with them.
All the other women looked relieved. "Jamie said it first," said Sabrina, with absolute certainty. "When?"
Vivian felt her neck heat up. "This is crazy." Did girls really talk about this sort of thing? She tried to get out of her chair and Mel and Sabrina grabbed her upper arms and tugged her back down. "Come on, I'm not talking about my private life with you idiots."
To her surprise, even Lara was firm about this one. "Vivian Peck, you nearly fucked things up with Jamie already. We like her. So we, who speak girl, are going to make sure you don't stuff it."
That was when it dawned on Vivian that these crazy women, these were her friends.
Hadn't Lara and Jenny sat with her when she'd fractured, trying to come to grips with her cousin? And Sabrina had coached her through the political aspects of ETF. So had Mel. The other women, all patrol, knew her well. These were women who wouldn't just go to the wall for her, they wanted her to excel and succeed outside of work. As a human.
She blinked at the realization.
This was her family.
"Jamie said if first. Uh. Twice. After ..." Vivian paused. "When we— when I stopped being stupid." She glanced beseechingly at Lara and Jenny who caught it and nodded. "I said it at my last birthday," she added in a mumble.
Sabrina snorted. "You said it after sex."
"Shut up, no one asked you," replied Vivian, feeling herself turn red again.
But her friends, her friends laughed at Sabrina and not at Vivian. And they asked her about living with Jamie, and what was it like when two women lived together. Mel told them about living with her boyfriend, who didn't understand her job, and she and Vivian compared notes. Jenny admitted she'd never lived with a boy, or a woman, and everyone got distracted.
Why were they boys and women, and not boys and girls? Obviously because men were in short supply. How many of the women at the table had considered dating other women? All but Lara, who confessed to being tragically heterosexual.
When Rich came to the table to 'flirt,' everyone told him to leave. They laughed as he slunk back to the boys' table, tail between his legs. Even the boys laughed at him, calling over apologies. As the night wore on, some of the old guard hauled another table over to join them.
Andy actually told the story of how she got suspended for sleeping with Swarek, which startled Vivian. The youngest rookies took that with a shock. They'd only known Andy as the successful adult. Once that seal was broken, even Chloe talked about her first marriage to her partner, Wes.
Vivian had forgotten those stories. And she'd never heard some of them. Like the time Andy found a ring in her boyfriend's lock box and thought he was proposing. He wasn't. It was all the world her mothers avoided. Her mothers weren't given to girl gossip. Gail had a massive hate for anything mundane like that, and Holly was just bored by it all. They both despised fake happiness.
To her own surprise, Vivian enjoyed listening to the girls talk about love and relationships and how annoying boys were. Even the old guard who were married (or nearly enough, Andy) admitted that men were often boys. It was just a nice night where even Vivian felt like she could talk a little about things. A very little. And yes, they gave her shit about it.
Finally, though, the night of giggling girls drew to a close. Vivian gave Jenny a lift home and pulled up to her own apartment fairly late. Second shift wasn't so bad for her sleep cycle. The night shift was always brutal, and she was due it sooner or later. But for now, one night of fun was worth the lost sleep.
Yeah. Vivian had fun.
Sometimes people thought Gail could read drug test results because she was married to Holly. More often, they thought it was because she was a Peck, and Pecks were obligated to do everything.
Neither were true.
Gail absolutely could not, to this day, parse a drug scan without assistance.
Same with DNA, though she was good enough to recognize related alleles if they were next to each other in the right way. The pattern recognition of mathematics was beyond her conscious understanding.
Give her languages or people any day of the week, and Gail saw connections and drew lines. But for fucks sake, please don't ask her to see if the drug sample from A was the same as B unless they were lined up all matchy matchy.
Thank god Holly preferred to deliver her results like that. Back before they'd been dating, Gail had mentioned Holly's reports were always easier to digest and translate from nerd. The doctor had given Gail a lopsided grin that confusingly flip flopped her heart and said she tried to cater to her audience.
So thanks to Holly, Gail had two separate results of samples up on her wall. One was labeled Crave, and one was labeled Mannequin. And fuck if they weren't similar. But Gail still cheated and had her wall draw the lines, just to be sure.
"Components," she said to herself, softly.
The mannequin was used to smuggle drugs that were part of the cocktail that made the Crave. The mannequin was in a car that belonged to Thirty-Four division. It was a car that had been taken as evidence and converted into an undercover car.
Gail leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. "Fuck," she said at length.
"My sentiment," said Frankie Anderson from the couch. She was draped over the entirety, feet dangling over the arm.
"How long has this been going on?" Gail propped her feet up on her desk and slouched.
"About six years. More or less." Frankie hesitated. "Swarek didn't know. I'm sure of that."
That helped a little. "He wasn't an Inspector." She closed her eyes. "There's a difference between the responsibilities and auspice of sergeants and inspectors."
"Auspice."
Gail smirked. "They charge my kid a toonie for those words."
From the couch, Frankie laughed. "Your kid. Jesus." She sighed loudly, dramatically, and sat up. "I feel very conspiracy theory."
"My office was swept for bugs this morning." It was swept every morning. And afternoon. Gail had a few legal cases with FBI on her docket which mandated that anyway, but it was a great excuse at the moment. The Americans were more than willing to show off their tech. Vivian had been rather derisive, privately, about its quality.
"Good." Though Frankie sounded worried. "Okay. I thought you had some weird corrupt Mountie trail with Crave."
"Yeah," said Gail slowly.
"And now I got a weird corrupt cop trail."
"Yeah."
They shared a look. Frankie flinched. "Jesus. Cops and Mounties, smuggling drugs and covering up dead bodies and murders for six years? How the fuck ... Swarek shoulda seen it, Gail."
Gail shook her head. Besides the fact that Sam had been at Twenty-Seven and not Thirty-Four, the situation was caused by lack of oversight. "As much as I'd love to agree," she replied. "Galbraith is the fish I think we should be frying."
They'd had no one suitable able to act in charge and balance out the division inspector. Gail's hunt for the Mountie versions of Pecks, the Martlets, had come up weirdly short. Alice had been happy to introduce Gail to her parents. The Martlet father, however, had been useless. They had no idea if undercover ops were going on, as they only did politics.
Fucking politics.
In the real world, Frankie flinched. "What a fucking homophobic dick cheese."
"Ew," grimaced Gail. "I didn't realize you could make me more gay, Anderson."
Now Frankie beamed. "He's old school, Peck. Like..." She stopped.
Ah. Yes. "Like my father." She nodded. "William Peck. Homophobe, misogynist, racist, probably MRA." Gail hesitated. "Has it occurred to you that we don't actually have many white guys who could pass as one of those without Swarek?"
"Well, just Goff and Abercrombie."
Gail and Frankie froze. The air got colder. "Jesus. And Fuller."
"No, he's too ..." Frankie waved a hand. "Swishy. And Goff is a retard— sorry, a waste of air."
"But Hanford actually could... We could send him and Aronson undercover."
"Which one's that?"
"The greekie blonde."
Frankie snapped her fingers. "Bisexual. Right. Yeah, she could. We'd need Chloe."
Gail arched an eyebrow. "We do. But I can get that." She huffed and looked back at the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother's photo, currently unaltered.
What would Elaine Peck do?
This really was her bailiwick, when it came down to brass tacks. Elaine was the born spy. She saw layers beyond layers. Lies beyond lies. That was why she'd been interested in politics, probably. Her paternal family, the Armstrongs, came from a long line of people who knew how to play that game. She married into Pecks, who played the parallel. Elaine could have been Prime Minister. Hell, even with Gail being gay, she could have played that as diverse and welcoming.
Okay, Gail was a little glad that her mother had abandoned her political aspirations. That would have sucked to live through. On the other hand, her mother had spent almost a decade in IA. Superintendent Elaine Peck had seen every single malfeasance that had touched the force. And young Gail had been dragged along, forced to see it and hear it and understand it.
Now was the time to process that.
She exhaled slowly, as if she was doing yoga. Calm. Relax.
"We have two situations, parallel, similar, and they share a terrifying connection," Gail said slowly. "First we have this oddity you've uncovered, cases unsolved, swept under the radar, tossed aside. Murders. Thefts. Drugs. Mostly murder. And thanks to your persistence, we know they've been trying to cover it up by passing their cases to baby lab nerds, the ones without the experience to draw the lines between cases."
Frankie said nothing. There was a sound of fabric on the couch, though, so Gail knew she was listening.
Good.
She went on.
"Next problem, some of evidence went missing from Thirty-Four. And by some I mean enough to fund a fucking gang war, which I really could do without." Gail laughed a little at herself. "But. We never saw the evidence on the streets, so we assumed it was being grabbed for profit. Venal and all that. Fine, cops want to make money. Moving on."
Gail kicked her feet off the table and stood up, pacing a little. "Now. You know about my situation with Keith. The little drug running hostage taker. We think he's a Mountie spy, and based on your case, the popular theory is that he's working to find out the corruption in Thirty-Four. But that doesn't float properly!"
She paused and looked out her window to the deck. "See... The right way about this, the way Herr Peck would roll it, would be to double up. You can't trust a spy, so you have another spy to spy on the first one."
Now Frankie spoke. She muttered under her breath. "That's a headache."
Gail grinned. "It is a headache. Keeping multiple levels of reality straight in your head without putting it down on paper."
"What?" Frankie sounded shocked. "You ... you have to do all this in your head?"
"Mmmm. Yeah, no paper trails with spies. Can't plausibly deny shit you document, Franks." Gail walked to her deck door and rested a hand on the cold glass. January. Cold. "My point is that in the situation where you have one agency spying on the other, it's always done with at least some attention paid from those being spied on. The obvious exception is when you think the people you'd normally work with are the bad guys. Therefore we are the bad guys."
Frankie groaned. "You had a fucked up childhood, Peck."
"Tell me about it." Gail turned and leaned on the glass door. Really she needed to be sure. She needed someone to vet her spy, Keith, and get just cause for her to haul his ass in and grill the fuck out of him. Someone like a Superintendent. "How well do you know Superintendent Dodge?"
"Wolfgang?"
Immediately, Gail smiled. If Frankie knew him well enough to use his first name, that was a good sign. "Ja, Wolfgang," she replied, in her proper German accent.
The detective frowned. "Uh. Passably? Went out with his cousin for a while. She dumped me."
"Good terms?"
Frankie shrugged a little. "I went to her wedding. Why?"
"How well do you trust him?"
There was a long silence from Frankie. Gail studied her face carefully. Normally Frankie had an attitude and a chip on her shoulder. She was a fun house mirror reflection of Gail in many ways, and no, that was not flattering to either of them. In their youth, they'd exacerbated each other's worst traits. Now, in their fuck-you old age, they had come to a sort of balance.
All of that meant she could see through Frankie rather well. She could see the thoughts and doubts and concerns. When Frankie hesitated, Gail could understand why. The older woman was trying to remember every conversation with Dodge.
"If I was going to go to someone to file a complaint against Galbraith, I'd go to him," said Frankie at length.
Gail smiled. It was the smile Holly called dangerous and Vivian admitted to avoiding. Frankie however did not flinch. She just nodded at the smile and got up. They didn't need to talk. Frankie was going to go tell Dodge that she had a problem with unsolved cases and a possible spy. Frankie was going to get the wheels turning with Dodge that Keith was a spy from the police, not the Mounties.
And then Gail could rip into Keith.
It wasn't the first time IA had stormed Holly's castle, nor would it be the last.
She watched the suited and uniformed hordes drag her lab techs, one at a time, into a conference room. They would discuss matters, and then a much shaken tech would emerge. The process repeated itself many times, past lunch, and well into dinner.
Gail had taken the news that Holly would be home late with a bit of resigned understanding. That meant it was Gail's fault somehow. Which Holly actually knew, but not that something she would ask over the phone. Not at the office at least. Maybe on the drive home. Which would be very late.
By eight at night, Holly had sent everyone home except Pete and the night crew. They now were sitting in Holly's office, enjoying the Chinese food Holly had insisted on ordering, waiting for the last interview to be done.
Finally Pete asked the question. The question. "How normal is this?"
"Not very," admitted Holly, wiping her fingers.
"Do you know ... Do you know why all this?"
Holly hesitated. There were two answers. Gail was currently trying to get absolute proof that Keith was someone's spy, be it a Mountie or a surprise police agent. Since the case had crossed over into Frankie's problem of unsolved crime at Thirty-Four, Gail had decided to utilize that. So earlier that week, Frankie had gone to Superintendent Dodge to voice her concerns.
Obviously she couldn't tell Pete all of that. Or even any of it. So Holly went with the story that was both truthful and public.
"Thirty-Four has been taking advantage of our green techs to run cases," she began, weighing her words carefully. "The problem is some of those cases would have been pattern recognized by any experienced techs."
Pete startled. "Wait, they were using green techs to cover up a crime?"
"Apparently so. It's a bit on the QT at the moment, Pete."
He nodded quickly. "God, yeah. I hope so. Did ... was anyone bribed?"
Holly gestured in the general direction of the conference room. "I'm waiting to find out. I don't believe so."
The younger man looked at her curiously. "Did you know this was coming?"
Ah. She pursed her lips. "Yes. Inspector Anderson, Frankie, have you met her?" When Pete shook his head, she went on. "She's one of Gail's ... army."
Now Pete laughed. "Oh. She has a cadre of officers loyal to her?"
Holly smiled. Even though Gail had trouble seeing it, she did inspire loyalty in others simply by being a shining example of it herself. "She does. She sort of created a set of officers in Fifteen, Twenty-Seven, and Thirty-Four who'd go to the wall for her."
"But the cases... wait. Didn't Thirty-Four not have a Detective Inspector for ... ever?"
"You've been reading up," said Holly, approvingly. "They did not. They had a sergeant, Anderson as it happens, but since she was behind seniority to the head of homicide over in Twenty-Seven, it was a political mess. Not to mention her Division Inspector is a homophobe."
Pete made an angry face. "Seriously? In this day and age?"
But Holly just shrugged. "You get used to it after a while, Pete."
Years ago, Holly would get irate at people and lash out at them. She used to be so mad about the world when it treated her like that. But at some point, she'd relaxed. It didn't matter what they thought. Holly was going to live her life and be who she was, and if that meant pissing off homophobes by flaunting her gay, well, fuck it.
Whatever reply Pete had ready, it was swallowed by the entrance of Salvador from IA. He'd been a patrol constable with Gail at one point.
"Doc- Docs. Sorry about all that."
"It's alright, Sal. Gotta do what you gotta do," said Holly, in her most practiced casual tone.
Salvador smiled. "Yeah, a long night though. You can head on out. We're all done."
All done? Holly arched her eyebrows. "Am I looking for new lab techs?"
"Not this time," said Salvador. "Though... how long has Dr. Ames been here?"
Holly and Pete shared a surprised look. "Ananda? Since med school, so ... six and half years now. She's my best up and comer."
Perhaps Sal caught the warning in her tone. "She was never used in the cases... uh." Sal stopped and stared at Pete, horror crossing his face.
"The suspect cases from Thirty-Four where you may have dirty cops?" Pete smiled, tiredly. "Officer, I'm new, but I'm no rube."
Holly had to cover her mouth not to laugh.
Gail just outright laughed when Holly recounted the story later. Her troublesome wife had stayed up with dinner ready and a massage. Holly really had married well. "I like Repeat. He's going to be great."
"I know, right?" Holly smiled into the mattress. "So's Ananda. She totally read into the whole thing and ... well. You're going to need to bring her in, honey."
With a deep sigh, Gail silently pushed on that one spot that always caused Holly so much pain. There was a pop, bringing blessed relief. Holly groaned and Gail giggled. "You sound happier than when we have sex."
"Honey, I love you so much... and I am so much more happy with that than any sex we've ever had."
Gail sounded indignant. "I can't believe you said that!" But she didn't stop with her massage. "You're so mean to me," whinged Gail.
"You're right. I'm only with you for massages."
Predictably, Gail pinched her side, lightly. "Cheeky."
She lapsed into silence, continuing to gently rub Holly's back and shoulders. Eventually, Gail reached for the lotion Holly preferred and started to rub that in as well. It was, clearly, a time for deep thinking from the detective. It happened as soon as Holly mentioned telling Ananda about the case.
"We don't have to tell her," said Holly, at length.
"Hmm?"
"Ananda."
"Ah."
Monosyllabic Gail was not Holly's favorite. Monosyllabic and mostly silent was totally unwelcome. But when Gail got that way, she could wait like no ones business. That hadn't always been the case. It certainly wasn't when they'd met. Somewhere down the line, Gail learned patience.
Holly absolutely hated it when Gail turned it on her.
Except that wasn't what was happening. Gail was, literally, just thinking.
"I want to tell her the Frankie part," said Gail finally, stopping the massage and kissing Holly's back between her shoulder blades. "But not the Mountie. If she catches on, tell me. But not before. I don't want to expose the lab to idiots."
Holly frowned and rolled over, stretching. "You make it sound like you except trouble."
"I do. He already hacked his anklet to get out and ... well. Maybe kill. I'm not sure. And I don't like it, and it's all taking too long, and I'm worried about you." Gail glanced over and her face shifted from worried cop to adoring wife. "Okay, I can't talk shop with your boobs out like that, Holly."
Actually Gail totally could talk shop while her face was buried in Holly's boobs. She'd done it many times, chatting amiably about work after sex. They both had. It was an occupational hazard of them both being somewhat obsessive individuals.
But that really meant Gail was trying to avoid the conversation at the moment. And that meant she really was scared or nervous about something to do with the case.
"Honey," said Holly as she pulled her sleep shirt on. "How dangerous is this?"
Gail cringed. "I don't know. And that bothers me."
Candid. Not a good sign. Holly reached over and took Gail's near hand. "I trust you, Gail," she said simply.
With a wary, uneven, smile, Gail nodded.
When Vivian explained what she could, Jamie had not taken it well. And it wasn't like Vivian could give her really any details.
"Oh come on, it's not like everyone doesn't know there are some dirty cops at Thirty-Four," complained Jamie, throwing her gym bag down the hall towards their room.
"That doesn't mean we advertise it." Vivian sighed and walked down to pick up the bag and carry it the rest of the way.
"That's not what I meant, goon. Do you want one of Celery's post workout drinks?"
Vivian made a face. "Absolutely not. I want a shower and a steak."
"Okay, that sounds way better, but... Veggies."
Ugh. "Fine. Whatever's small enough to not make me cry." She rounded into their bedroom and started sorting the clothes into the laundry. At least she'd managed to avoid talking about work.
All the times her mothers had talked about work together, and the times Holly's endearing head tilt had convinced Gail to talk about things that should have been a secret, sounded so fucking romantic. But here was Vivian, not feeling romantic a bit, and somehow being stronger than her mother.
She couldn't tell Jamie details. Jamie wasn't a Peck. She wasn't an officer with a security clearance. She probably would never be one. And unless Vivian married her... Yeah. No. There were just some things Vivian wasn't going to be able to talk to her girlfriend about.
This case in particular had gotten deep and scary really fast. Just that morning, Gail had flat out put a gag order on them talking anywhere to anyone without clearing with her first. Even Marcel had taken that seriously and without complaint.
The little tête-à-têtes had gotten intense and crowded, with Marcel bringing in one of his most trusted coworkers, plus the addition of Superintendent Dodge and Frankie. Add in Traci and Gail, and Vivian felt overwhelmed by the seniority. She was used to being surrounded by her family, all of whom outranked her, but somehow having a Superintendent in the mix was daunting.
Holly had explained it once by saying a fish didn't think of the water in the bowl. She'd said that about Gail, who regularly scaled mountains for the police and thought nothing of the work involved. She lived her life, from birth onward, in the world where lives were literally at stake.
While Vivian had willingly joined that world, she was still a bit of a novice when it came to brass tacks. She didn't have the experience to know how much was alright to share, and defaulted to simply keeping her mouth shut.
The other part of the problem was Vivian had caught on to Gail's growing concern of just how dangerous these guys were. They were clearly educated and talented and practiced. Keith knew how to screw around with the ankle tracker, something he still wasn't talking about. He was also still in the hospital, as his cut infection thanks to the Crave was rather bad.
Every day, Vivian had listened to the recordings from her microphones left in Keith's room, but all she knew was that one of the nurses really hated him. That didn't do much. There were no suspicious characters, or staff with weird code words. It was another dead end in a series of dead ends about a mystery unsolved.
"You know, I don't like when you're all up in your head," Jamie said as she came into the bedroom, disgusting green drinks in hand.
"Sorry," said Vivian, and she took one of the drinks, downing half of it before she could taste it.
"I'm getting used to it."
"See... that doesn't sound great." Vivian sighed and leaned on the closet frame.
Jamie made a face and put her half drunken glass down. "It's not. But... I don't understand why you're involved in this at all. You're not in IA, and there are no bombs ..."
"My job isn't just bombs, Jamie."
ETF covered tactical, EDU, and ERT. Vivian's job in the explosive disposal unit was pretty obvious, everyone was trained in assault. The team based out of Fifteen was really three teams. Each was made up of a team leader, Julian Smith, the assault group, the snipers, the bomb techs, and a negotiator.
On paper, at least. Like everyone else, they had to do more with less. The setup of ETF had cycled around a few different iterations. Originally the first ETF team had been seven teams of 10, on task 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Sometime when Vivian was a teen, they'd woken up and realized that just wasn't sane.
These days, it was a lot messier and more cops were trained in covering more 'normal' ETF type situations. And the low numbers also meant Vivian had to be competent at negotiations and sniper skills, in addition to assault and her specialty of bombs.
"Speaking of the rest of your job, when do you have to do another training session?"
"Dwyer Hill in the summer. A whole two weeks." Vivian made a 'whoopie gesture with one finger before finishing her drink and putting the glass down.
"Summer Camp for nerds," teased Jamie, and she came up to Vivian, invading her personal space. "Are you only involved in that weird drugs case because of your mom?"
Vivian sighed. "Probably. Proximity and Peck."
Jamie nodded and rested her hands on Vivian's shoulders. "Proximity. Hmmm." Jamie stood on her toes and kissed Vivian. "I don't like it, but that's the girl I fell for."
Huh? Vivian scrunched her face up, trying to express her confusion. "Don't like which, the ETF?"
"No." Jamie reached her arms around Vivian's neck. "The nepotism."
"Ah." Vivian leaned in and rested her head against Jamie's, her hands finding Jamie's waist. "We keep it at a minimum."
Jamie nodded a little. "It's weird. Seeing the rumors that there's a secret police cabal behind the throne be real is ... weird."
"Not a real thing." Technically that was true, though edge wise. Holly would roll her eyes.
"It's kinda hot."
Vivian froze. It was completely unintentional. But Elaine's warnings that people would try to use her for her name rang in her head. How many times had Elaine talked about people who tried to take advantage of the Pecks? Women who threw themselves at Bill and Steve and others. Women who wanted power.
That was something Gail had mentioned, in passing, as well. She'd never worried about it since her nature chased off most men. And since finding women, Gail had no issue rebuffing their, as she put it, clumsy advantage.
Had she just stumbled into a ... honey trap?
Jesus.
In the second it took Vivian to process the situation, her girlfriend winced. "Okay, that wasn't what I meant," she muttered and dropped her heels back to the floor, thumping her head on Vivian's chest.
Okay. That was good. Wasn't it? "You know... Elaine warned me about girls who'd try to, er, curry favor."
Jamie snorted a laugh into Vivian's shirt. "Yeah, that sounded so fucking creepy."
"It was as bad as me." They both laughed. Vivian relaxed and moved her hands up Jamie's back a little. "Want to try again?"
Her girlfriend giggled and pressed her cheek to Vivian's chest. "Not really, no."
Vivian smiled. That was her girlfriend. Weird and funny and confident and sometimes awkward. "This reminds me of how you asked me to be your girlfriend."
"Oh?"
"Mmm. Ice cream, in your bed, which is still kinda gross by the way. And you just said any girlfriend of yours had to like your stupid sense of humor."
"I don't think I said stupid," Jamie said indignantly.
"It was implied."
Jamie sighed and leaned away to look up at Vivian. "That's what I like," she said, looking fondly. "That... that brain of yours. That's what hot. You're always thinking and being clever."
"My brain is attractive?" That was actually a new one to Vivian.
"The body is definitely a hit, but the mind keeps me around." Jamie grinned and tugged Vivian's head down for a slow, warm, kiss. The sort that did a nice job of making a person stop worrying about where her hands were or what her tongue was doing.
Just a really, really, nice kiss.
Jamie gently broke off the kiss and then stepped backwards. She let her hands trail down Vivian's until they could hold hands.
"You are aware we just drank Celery's nasty ass green machine, right?"
And Jamie laughed brightly. "It gives you stamina."
"Oh, well." Vivian half heartedly rolled her eyes. "I guess we could do an experiment and find out."
"Oh yes. For science," said Jamie seriously.
The whole thing felt bad.
Gail sipped her coffee from the relative sanctity of Frankie's office and watched IA haul boxes out of the evidence lockup in Thirty-Four. Had she played her hand too strong? Had she been too forceful and pushed Frankie? Would having IA crack down on a dirty cop, singular, scare off the others? Would this cause everything to escalate?
Jesus, did she just put Frankie's life at risk?
Ugh. Why had she ever wanted to be in charge of anyone?
"Well, that's that," said Frankie, shoving her phone deep into a pocket.
"Huh? Did your guy roll over?"
Frankie shook her head. "Mac said she left my keys on the counter."
It took a second, but Gail's brain switched over. "It's really over with Mac?" They'd broken up a few weeks ago, but Frankie had been hoping for a reconciliation. Looked like not.
Her friend nodded. "Apparently the whole super obsessive cop look isn't as good on me as it is on you." She shrugged. "Whatever. It was good. Almost four years. New record."
The bitterness in Frankie's tone was not easily missed. "I'm sorry," Gail said, sincerely.
"Eh." Frankie shrugged again. Her face was drawn and tense though. She was clenching her jaw. Yeah. She hurt.
Someone like Holly or Chloe or even Andy would have tried to hug Frankie just then. Put an arm around the irascible woman's shoulders and squeezed. But neither Frankie nor Gail communicated like that. It wouldn't help. So Gail just sipped her coffee and turned her attention back to the case unfolding before her.
The breakup wasn't a total shock either. While Mac was clearly fond of Frankie, and the reverse as well, they didn't have a spark. Mac was looking to retire from fieldwork and go into teaching other EMTs for tactical and emergency situations. Frankie ...
"Aw fuck, I'm sorry," muttered Gail, even more heartfelt.
Frankie had accepted Gail's promotion.
And Frankie snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, Peck. I could have said no." One of the many reasons Gail actually liked Frankie was because she was smart like that. "If you're gonna apologize for anything, make it setting me up with Lisa."
Gail smirked. "I thought you'd enjoy each other."
"Gail. No one would ever thank you for introducing them to Lisa." They both chuckled. "Why the hell does Holly even like her?"
"Dunno. Something about Holly nearly getting punted from med school, Lisa taking them to Cancun, and I think Holly locking herself in a closet when she tried weed."
Frankie burst out with a laugh. "What?"
"Apparently she gets super paranoid on it." Gail shrugged and noticed the head of the investigation was walking their way. "Oh hey, they're done." She tossed her cup and smiled too brightly at Cappelletti from IA. "Hi, Monty."
"Hi, Gail. Anderson." He canted his head to one side.
"She's one of mine," Gail said, candidly.
While Frankie blustered a little, Monty just closed the door. He was going to keep Frankie in on this. "Right. So we're pretty sure Road Sgt. Lester is involved. But two things could happen here. First, we scare the rats and they go to ground. Second, they continue on. Either way, I need to sure you're going to monitor this as you've been, Inspector Anderson."
Frankie nodded. "Okay." She looked a little worried.
"Wanna stack the deck, Monty?"
"I would, but..." He trailed off and flicked his gaze from Gail to Frankie.
Ah. Gail turned to Frankie.
Frankie eyed them both like they had three heads. "What?"
"We gotta scream," explained Gail.
"You're going to yell at me?"
Monty nodded. "Best way to sell it is anger."
"Make it sound like you flubbed your first test as Inspector," Gail suggested.
"Oh sure," agreed Frankie. "And it's Gail's fault for pushing for me on everyone. Us queers stick together and ... oh hey, we can check Galbraith that way."
Gail tapped her nose. "See, Monty? She's good."
The staged argument was fun. Gail had a twisted idea of fun, of course, but getting to shout at Frankie and blaming her for fucking up Gail's shot at super, well... it was a hoot. Plus it let her find out how fast gossip got around. It just wasn't as she'd expected. It was at home a day later, cooking dinner.
"Honey, not that I'm opposed to this, but why did I find out you're running for superintendent from Ben?"
Gail froze. "What?"
"Ben? My field guy?"
She slowly turned and looked at Holly. Ben was Ben Kinkaid, a field lead and Holly's favorite evidence collector. He wasn't new at all. And they hadn't looked at the leads, since every single one of them had undergone a background check. "Holly... what, exactly, did Ben say?"
Her wife chuckled. "Gail."
Nope. Holly thought she was having fun. "Holly, I'm serious." Gail tossed the towel from her shoulder to the counter. "What did Ben say. As best as you remember."
Holly stared at Gail. "Oh. Uh." She frowned deeply. "He said he was sorry to hear your last case took you off this year's list? Something like that. I thought it was a joke, honey."
Fuck. Gail snatched her phone off the counter. "It is. I mean, I'm not trying for it. But ... okay, IA raided Thirty-Four yesterday, but we only fished out the Road Sergeant, Lester. He had to be feeding the Ds and the uniforms, which y'know makes sense. He's between them and their Staff, so perfectly situated. But we figured we should really sell it."
Holly, beautiful brilliant Holly, understood right away. "You staged a fight with someone — Frankie. You and Frankie faked a fight to make it look like she'd fucked up, and gotten you in trouble with IA? So they'd keep ... doing whatever?"
For that brain, Gail could have kissed her wife. Frankie had caught on to the plan, but Holly was so goddamned quick. "God, I love how smart you are, Holly."
But her wife scowled. "How did Ben know?"
"That's... yeah." Gail hesitated. "Remember when IA scoped out you guys?"
"You mean Monday?" Holly's voice was drier than the Sahara. It was Antonia Armstrong levels of disapproval. But then Holly's irritation melted into heartbroken agony. "Ben?" Holly covered her mouth.
"Looks like. I need to call Monty."
"Speaker?"
Gail nodded and tapped in the number. "Hey, Monty. We have a leak."
"Why am I on speaker?"
"Holly's here. Tell him."
So Holly recounted what Ben had said, and her initial feeling that it was just a joke. But yes, Ben worked a lot with novices. Everyone had to pass field tests, given by him, to be accredited. Many cops did too, including Vivian and Lara as Gail pointed out.
Monty took all of that in stride and promised to look into it.
"Now what?" Holly gnawed her lip.
"Now we wait and you tell people you thought it was a joke and haven't talked to me about it."
Holly made an 'are you fucking kidding me?' face. She wasn't great at lying. The other part of the reason Gail didn't want her wife involved on the case was Holly's lack of a poker face when it came to lying. In games, she could lie. But not real life.
"Good point," muttered Gail. "Oh. I've got it." And she laughed. "Holly, I'd be a shitty super. Whoever told you that is a moron."
And Holly relaxed. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm inept at the whole subterfuge thing."
Gail shook her head and walked around the kitchen island. "Don't be. It's one of the things I love most about you."
"Really?" Holly laughed self deprecatingly. "That?"
"Hmmm." Gail caught Holly's waist and tugged her close. "One of." She gave in to her earlier thought and kissed Holly's lips. It was brief, and Holly nestled against Gail's chest for a moment.
They stayed there, just holding each other, for a little while.
"Gail, how much trouble are we in here?"
"None at the moment." Her wife made a disparaging noise. Gail knew what she meant. "I don't know for sure," admitted Gail.
As it happened, they were in a lot of trouble. Trouble Gail could have seriously done without.
"Don't tell Frankie," said Mac, holding an ice pack to her face.
Gail sighed. "Mac. Seriously. I know you broke up."
"Yeah and this isn't a 'get back together' thing, Gail." Mackenzie MacLean eyed Gail curiously. "Why the hell are you here? Me getting mugged is way below your pay grade."
"It's what the woman said," pointed out Gail.
Mac snorted. "Not my fault Frankie has a string of crazy exes."
As much as it pained her, Gail was going to have to keep that cover story. The woman hadn't been one of Frankie's exes. The ambulance dash cam had shown a woman that Frankie swore she didn't know who came up, screamed at Mac that her girlfriend was a bitch, and punched her out cold.
It scared the fuck out of all of them. Immediately, Gail sent messages to everyone involved to lay low. The criminals were on to the obvious. Everyone knew Frankie was on to them, but not everyone knew she and Mac had broken up. That left Mac, terrifyingly, a target.
"I know, but since I floated her for Inspector, I gotta ask." She flipped open her tablet to take notes. "So tell me, in your own words, what happened."
Mac rolled her eyes. "Oh my god. Fine. We were having lunch, me and Barrows. Hot dogs. We were bitching about girls, when this crazy red head chick ran up and screamed at me."
Gail nodded. So far, the story matched the dash cam. "Can you recall what she said, exactly?"
"Uh yeah. Your fucking girlfriend is a cold hearted bitch. And then..." Mac trailed off and took the ice pack off.
It looked horrible. Gail took a photo. "Did you say anything back?"
"Whuh," replied Mac, annoyed.
Gail blinked. "Oh. What or why?"
"I was trying to ask her what the hell she was talking about." Mac looked petulant. "I'm so pissed at Frankie, too," she added, as the curtain opened and Ben Kinkaid startled them both.
They'd left him in the wild as their little fishy, as Marcel called them. "Oh. I'm sorry, Inspector."
"No no, go ahead," said Gail. "I have a bet that she had a ring on."
"Felt like it," complained Mac.
Ben smiled easily. Damn it, he was so fucking likable. "I just need to measure it and see if there's any trace. Then the doctor can debride the wound and I'll take it all home."
"You have a screwed up job, Kinkaid," said Mac, darkly, but she took the ice pack off her face again.
Gail watched Ben quietly as he photographed and inspected the cut. There was something in the wound, so the doctor came over to clean it out. Sadly that had to be done without pain killers.
As a distraction, and a lede for Ben, Gail spoke. "You know it's not Frankie's fault," she said conversationally.
Mac snorted. "How's do you figure that?"
"Name any of her exes."
That made the EMT hesitate. "Well. Lisa."
"Right, and they're still friends." Gail shrugged. "She doesn't talk about her exes in a bad way."
"I guess," complained Mac. "No way in hell are we getting back together, though. She didn't even come."
Ben made a surprised sound. "You broke up with Detective Anderson?"
"Do you see her sorry ass here?"
Gail cleared her throat. "That's my fault. She's on lock down in case her punchy ex goes after her." Both Ben and Mac looked chagrined. "Benjy, how long do you think... I can walk you out..."
The doctor, a baby faced intern, grunted. "I'm done." He signed off on Ben's notes, muttering about soap operas as he left, after promising that someone would be by to suture Mac's cheek.
Wisely, Gail did not offer to call Lisa. Instead, she took advantage of Ben's presence and walked with him out of the ER. "Hell of a thing," she drawled.
"On the end of a breakup too, that sucks." Ben shook his head. "I thought they had it going."
"Oh? I didn't know you knew Frankie."
Ben smiled amiably. "Not as well as you do, I'd guess, but I work with Thirty-Four a lot." He paused. "All the Divisions, but y'know she's just Inspector—" Ben cut himself off. "I'm just going to stop saying things you know."
In her best Peck Arrogant tone, Gail dismissed his comment. "If I wanted for everyone to shut up until they said something I didn't know, I'd only talk to Holly."
They both laughed. It was commonly accepted that Holly was the smartest person in the lab. "That reminds me, I'm sorry about leaking."
Her heart stopped. "Oh?" Somehow Gail managed the one word. Leaking. Oh god.
"I didn't know you were surprising Dr. Stewart with the superintendent thing."
Tension washed out of her veins. "Oh. Well. I didn't really think I'd get it," confessed Gail. "I'm a long shot."
"Really?" Ben huffed. "That's stupid. You'd be great. You've got the experience and the smarts. And the ... moxie."
Gail burst out a laugh. Thank god everyone expected her to be an arrogant bitch. Laughing like that was expected of her. "Moxie? What are you talking about, Benjy."
But Ben's return smile was mysterious. "You have that it factor ..." He paused and looked at her seriously. "Gail. If there's anything I could do to help grease the wheels, let me know. I think you'd be great. We could be a great team. And ... please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm much more politically savvy than Dr. Stewart."
Flippantly, Gail replied, "A clam is more office political than my wife, Benjy."
"Exactly." He beamed. "This is me. I'll talk to you later."
Gail waved and watched Ben drive off before continuing to her own car.
That was absolutely weird.
What the hell was Ben on about? If she hadn't know he was a dirty lab tech, she'd think he was...
Gail felt cold.
Her stomach clenched. Her heart raced. She very slowly pulled her phone out. And then Gail paused. She couldn't prove it was a bribe. He hadn't offered her anything, just implied some help. Ben had been very careful.
But the child of Bill and Elaine Peck knew damn well what had just happened.
"Ben Kinkaid. Who the hell are you?"
Yikes! Things have taken a surprising turn again.
Is Ben Kinkaid the leader of these merry drug dealers? Or is he caught up in the rush? Maybe he thinks he's making the world better by putting HIS people in charge. And does he really think he could convince Gail to be one of his people?
