Chapter Four: Ships Passing in the Night

The next morning, as he walked in, Winnie took one look at his face and squealed delight. Greg winced at the high-pitched sound, but it was far too late; her cry attracted attention from every officer nearby and Parker swiftly found himself flooded with congratulations and more than a few playful nudges that it had taken him so long to propose.

Sergeant Vio let out a dramatic moan as he checked his watch. "You couldn't have done this a week ago?" he demanded, to howls of laughter.

Scenting an office pool, the lieutenant resolved not to inquire further. Then Sergeant Cooper nudged him in the side and asked, "So when's the big day?"

Parker rolled his eyes. "Cooper, I only just proposed last night; we haven't had time to set any dates."

"Better not keep her waiting too long, Sarge," Donna Sabine recommended.

"I'm not planning on it, Donna, but at least give us some time to enjoy the moment." Snickers rose at his statement, but Greg was perfectly serious. He did want to enjoy the feeling of being engaged. Once the weekend arrived, he and Marina could sit down with Dean and start the rough planning for their wedding, but in the meantime, they both had work.

After a few more volleys back and forth, most of his men trying to wriggle details of the proposal itself out of him, Greg extracted himself from the well-wishers and headed for the locker room, shaking his head at how quickly his 'love life' had ended up on the SRU gossip-chain.

Sailing into the locker room, he nearly retreated all over again when the occupants looked up and he realized Team One was suiting up for their shift. The stocky man's shoulders hunched and he made his way to his locker, determined to change and withdraw as quickly as he could. He'd treated them badly and he couldn't even apologize now, not without going against his commander's direct orders.

"So?"

Snapping around at Eddie's voice, he saw his best friend with one brow arched expectantly and felt himself smile. "She said yes."

In seconds, his former team abandoned their changing to surround him, congratulations overlapping as they slapped him on the back, punched his shoulders, and shared in his enthusiasm over his engagement. While he was still reeling, shocked they'd set aside their legitimate grudge so quickly, his friends flowed from the congratulations into teasing him.

"Watch out," Spike whispered loudly. "He's gonna tip the scales again in no time, guys."

"Only if she feeds him twenty pounds of meat a day or something," Sam disagreed.

"I just wanna know how he managed to catch her," Wordy put in, smirking. "I mean, the way he snores in his gryphon form…"

Parker flushed bright red as his friends laughed at him, but couldn't muster up the words to tease back. After the way he'd behaved…the way he was still refusing to apologize…he hadn't earned the right to tease them back. Not yet.

"Definitely a total lack of taste on her part," Lou agreed, tone solemn even as mischief quirked his grin.

"I don't know," Ed mused. "Anyone ever bugs her again, they'll have an angry gryphon on their hands."

"I haven't told her," Greg protested.

His former team stilled, staring at him. "You haven't?" Sam blurted. Why?

Stocky shoulders slumped. "I can tell her once we get married, but not before," the lieutenant confessed. Seeing the budding outrage, he shook his head. "Guys, that's nothing new and it's not about me; that's how the Statute works."

Sam and Wordy traded swift glances while Ed rocked back on his heels. "You mean, any magical would have to keep magic secret before the big day?" he ventured.

"That's right, Ed," Parker confirmed. A grimace crossed his face. "I wouldn't be surprised if a lot of magicals break that rule, but…"

"It's still against the law," Spike whispered, dismay burning bright. Not that he had to worry about that, not with the way he couldn't stay away from Winnie if his life depended on it.

In the meantime, Ed snorted, leaning against the lockers. "Heck of a wedding night, there, Greg. 'Hey, honey, I know we just got married, but I've got something to tell you.' "

Parker flinched and rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the ground. "I know, I know. Not exactly a good way to build trust."

"She can't get too mad at you, though," Spike pleaded. "I mean, it's not like you wanted to keep it from her, you legally couldn't tell her."

Lou snorted. "Spike, I don't care who you are or how logical it is; finding out a big secret like this after the wedding isn't gonna make you happy." Turning back to his lieutenant, he asked, "You have any ideas on how you're going to tell her?"

"Not yet," Greg admitted. Part of him wanted to keep quiet, but that would just blow up in his face. His magic was part of him; hiding it from the light of his life simply wasn't an option. Especially given the possibility that Dean's magic could start manifesting and breaking out just like his had.

Then Wordy cleared his throat, pulling attention to himself. "I'm best man," he announced.

Ed chuckled and adopted a superior tone. "No, that would be me," he countered. "I called dibs yesterday."

"Sarge hadn't even proposed yesterday," Wordy protested.

"Yeah, but he had bought the ring," Ed replied, smirking. "Not my fault you missed the gossip."

With a growl, Wordy sprang at his Sergeant, instigating a mock wrestling match in the locker room that never brought either man too close to either the lockers or the benches as they 'fought'. Their teammates howled with laughter at the 'sparring', scrambling out of the way and calling encouragement to both men.

Smiling to himself at the way his friends were trying to distract him from the inevitable Big Reveal, Greg maneuvered past the onlookers towards his locker. He'd figure it out, of that he had no doubt. Once he got the day's paperwork out of the way, maybe he could start planning it out – not the wedding night, though. That really would ruin the mood. Definitely the first week, though.

Still plotting, he tapped in the combo more by rote than anything else and swung the door open. About to reach in for his shirt, the officer paused, his magic humming just under his skin. Something felt…off. Considering, the lieutenant inspected his locker, scanning for anything out of place. When nothing caught his eye, he shrugged and started changing into his uniform. Once he was done, he headed for his office, already back to plotting out his wedding week approach with Marina.

The morning passed swiftly as Greg kept his head down and focused on his paperwork. Aside from the smile that wouldn't leave his face, the officer set his brand-new engagement aside in favor of work. Much as the boyish part of his soul wanted to just sit and daydream about the future, he needed to stay on top of things. Even if he was starting to get sick of paperwork and chafe at the forced inaction. Sailing high on his recent good news, Parker was almost looking forward to Team One cornering him. Well…maybe… Or maybe not…

Around lunchtime, he straightened from his computer, gaze snagging on his favorite photo. Himself and Dean. Hmmm… He should really swap that photo with the picture from the museum. With a nod, he reached out, snagging the frame and picked up the other. A quick movement and he'd done the deed. There was a churn in his gut as he set down his former favorite photo, but it was easy to dismiss the unease in the light of Marina's smile from his new prized picture. Greg smiled back and ran his fingers over Marina's profile; could life get any better than this? Somehow, he doubted it.

"Dad, when is Marina moving in?"

Greg blinked at the question, twisting to gaze at his son. "We aren't married yet, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, Dad, like that stops anyone these days."

True and yet his gut was churning at the very thought. Before he could think of a response, he caught sight of a familiar figure in the doorway. "Marina."

"Good evening, boys," Marina greeted, playfully ruffling Dean's hair as she joined them in the kitchen. Gray eyes lifted to her fiancé, her smile widening. "Well, if everyone is moving in together, then it's the same old, same old." With a wink, she added, "It looks like old-fashioned is now nouveau, doesn't it, Greg?"

Parker chuckled. "Very true, Marina," he agreed. "Or maybe we could compromise on the spare room?"

Dean nodded enthusiastically, but Marina's smile faded and for an instant, guilt flashed. Then she recovered and smiled even wider. Moving closer, she ran her index finger down his shirt. "No, Greg, if we're going old-fashioned, we should go all the way."

He snagged her hand. "I suppose that means I should've asked your father for permission to court you?"

She laughed at the tease. "No need to go that far, Greg," she chided.

Turning, Greg returned his attention to their dinner, smiling at the feel of his fiancé by his side, leaning against his shoulder as he finished up the prep work for their lasagna. Hefting the dish, he nodded thanks as Marina opened the oven door for him and slid it inside, absently wishing there was someone he could pass on his mother's recipes to. And startled at the sudden keen of grief from deep inside his heart.

Time marched on, almost idyllic for the SRU lieutenant, yet as the high of his successful proposal wore off, he sank back into the subtle, humming tension of waiting for Team One to confront him over his behavior after the May Dalton hot call. Seemingly on a daily basis, he found himself rearranging his photos, unable to keep away from that picture of himself and Dean. The photo with Marina and the Triceratops was so much better, yet he couldn't seem to stop trying to solve the mystery of the unbalanced picture. Couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something critical to his life. Whenever he was with Marina and Dean, it was easy to shake off that oddity, but away from them, it kept rising back to the surface, tugging ever more insistently as the days passed.

Footsteps drew his head up from his latest round of paperwork and Greg frowned absently, cataloging the approaching stride. No, strides. Anticipation pulsed within; was it time? Was this the shift when his former team finally raked him over the coals? He deserved it, he knew, and now he just wanted it over. Shifting, he half-closed his laptop; if he was about to get yelled at, he wasn't going to hide from it. He'd earned this hefty serving of crow and skimping on it wouldn't help anything.

At the knock, he called, "Enter."

Even as Eddie pushed the door open, Parker was fortifying himself for the verbal siege. Then the Sergeant asked, "Boss, got a minute?"

Hearing his subordinate's concern, Greg pushed himself up. "Sure thing, Ed; what's wrong?" Then he blinked at the sight of Sam and Wordy following their Sergeant in. Only three members of Team One? Internally, his shoulders sagged; dang it, this wasn't the intervention after all.

Lane waited until he'd shut the door behind them to continue. "You remember last week when you were talking about that photo on your desk?"

Parker nodded, reaching out to snap the requested photo up. "I do." At the curious looks from the constables, he passed the frame over to Sam. "I'm no photographer, but that picture…it's off."

Both constables peered at the photo, thoughtful expressions appearing as they saw the same thing their bosses had. "It's like there should be two more people here," Wordy mused.

"At least," Sam agreed.

Hope peeked through. "You guys have an idea?" Greg asked.

Blue and gray looked up from the frame. "Sorry, Sarge," Wordy apologized. "Ed told us about you thinking something's off, but well…"

"You're the only one who thinks that," Sam cut in, reaching out to set the photo back down. "Maybe you're wrong."

Hazel fell to the photo and the stocky man drew in a shuddering breath. Inside, his heart twisted, crying out, but he still couldn't grasp the why. He'd been wrong before, why should this be any different? Look at him – he had everything he ever could've wanted and he was obsessing over a picture. Except… His head came back up. "If you just think I'm wrong, why'd you come in here? Ed could've done that."

Wordy cast an 'I told you so' glance at Sam, who grimaced. Sighing the blond sniper rubbed a hand through his hair. "This morning, I came in early and I saw someone by your locker, Sarge."

"Anyone you know?" Parker questioned.

Braddock shook his head. "Soon as he saw me, he ran. Young, Caucasian; I think he was in his teens, might've had dark hair." He paused, jaw working an instant. "Must've been in the locker room before, though, Sarge. I went after him, but he got away by doubling back; thought I had him cornered right before I heard the locker room door close."

The lieutenant frowned, pacing. "And you're sure he was by my locker?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed. "I checked your locker afterwards, but it didn't look like he got in."

Hazel flicked to Wordy. "You saw someone, too?"

The brunet jerked his head in a nod. "Yesterday. Was pretty much just like Sam told you. Teenager, dark hair, but he ran as soon as he saw me." The team leader shifted back on his heels, expression serious. "I didn't see anything wrong with your locker either, but two days in a row? Something's up."

Parker turned just in time to see Ed's concurring tilt of the chin. "Boss, anything been off about your locker lately?"

The stocky man considered, frowning. Coming to a decision, he strode past the others to the door; they followed right on his heels as he angled for the locker room. The cluster swept into the locker room and Greg closed his eyes briefly, summoning up his gryphon ability to see magic. Scarlet dappled hazel as he examined his locker, expression tightening at the unmistakable sparkle of dark emerald. They'd have to have it checked, but he was almost certain what would be found.

Turning, his still dappled eyes landed on Sam. "Go get one of the forensic Aurors; let's see if we can trace the magical signature."

"Copy that, Sarge," Sam acknowledged, hustling off.

Ed traded a satisfied glance with Wordy before shifting back to his boss. "Greg, before I forget. Congrats; you're a very lucky man."

Despite the sudden issue with his locker, the lieutenant beamed. "I know, Eddie. Thanks."

An hour later, Greg was back in his office, puzzling over the report in front of him. Just as he'd confirmed, someone had enchanted his locker, but the enchantment hadn't been aimed at him. Instead, it was an interception spell of sorts: if any material imprinted with a specific magical signature on it passed through the locker's entrance, it would be sent to an as-yet unknown destination. He'd been puzzled by the concept until Neal explained that the enchantment was sensitive enough to pick up the merest traces of a person's magical signature; as best Greg could tell, the spell could essentially detect the magical version of fingerprints.

But when Neal had taken a look at the magical signature the enchantment was set to detect, he hadn't recognized it at all. It didn't match to anyone in the Auror Division, which left Greg wondering just who this spell had been aimed at. Obviously not him since it wasn't set to his own signature and yet there was a strange certainty in his gut that it was aimed at him. Otherwise, why put it on his locker?

Despite what Sam and Wordy had said, his heart was growing more certain by the day that his world was wrong. He wished Sam and Wordy had gotten a better look at whoever had been snooping around his locker; he had a feeling the stranger was the key to whatever he was missing.

"Marina, what are you doing?"

Marina looked up at her boyfriend from her position partway under his bed and immediately drew back. "Nothing."

Unconvinced, Greg arched a skeptical brow and fixed her with an expectant glare.

With slow movements, she shifted farther away from his bed. "I just…I just didn't realize you had another gun!" she announced brightly.

The second brow joined the first. "Of course I have a personal gun, Marina. Do you think the city pays for anywhere near enough ammunition to keep my skills sharp?"

His fiancé blinked in surprise. "But Greg, wouldn't you use your regular gun?"

The lieutenant shook his head and gestured her out of his bedroom. Reluctantly, she rose and trailed after him; stealing a look back, he saw Marina's wistful glance towards the hidden gun safe. Greg knew she wasn't suicidal in the least, not with their still fresh engagement, so why the sudden interest in his backup gun?

Setting the matter aside, he guided her into the living room and sat down in his chair while she sat on the couch. "My service weapon is restricted to the ammunition the SRU purchases for use," he explained. "It's very good ammunition, Marina, but that means it's expensive and hard to get commercially." One hand gestured towards his bedroom. "With my own gun, I can purchase just about any type of ammunition I want, so long as it's nine millimeter. There's a range I go to almost every week; they get a lot of business from the city's law enforcement. I set up my personal gun just like my service weapon, flashlight and everything, and I'll drill on the range to keep my skills sharp."

"When are you going again?" Marina asked, an odd gleam in her eyes.

"Probably the weekend, why?"

"Well…I was…I was wondering if you would teach me," Marina blurted all at once, wringing her hands together.

Her fiancé frowned thoughtfully. "And you want to shoot my personal gun?" At her nod, he sighed, leaning back as he considered the proposal. After a minute, he shifted to stand. "I don't see why not. Let me go get it and see if it fits your grip."

"No!"

Partway through standing, Greg hiked a brow at her.

Marina's smile was shaky, wavering even as he waited. "I was thinking, I could take it home with me and…"

"No," Greg refused. "It's registered to me, Marina; it's not leaving my possession." He finished standing. "We can go to the range this weekend and see which firearms might fit your grip. I can teach you if you want, but you might be better off with a female instructor." In the meantime, he was going to move his gun safe to his car. It was secure where it was, but he didn't want to leave it where it might present a temptation. Perhaps he could look over the weapon in the morning, see if anything needed to be cleaned before their trip to the range.

In the middle of the night, his phone shrilled, forcing him out of a peaceful night's rest. Groping for the device, he lifted it and clicked the call on. "Hello?"

"Sir, we need you in here," Kira reported. "Team Three's got a manhunt on their hands and we might need Team Four, too."

Right – and part of his job as the SRU's lieutenant was to coordinate between teams if a call was too large or complex for just one team. "On my way," Greg promised, crawling out of bed. "Give me twenty to call you back, then you can fill me in while I drive in." Good thing he always kept one clean uniform at home.

Hanging up, the lieutenant scrambled from his bedroom to the bathroom for a quick shower; part of him chafed, but if he had to interact with civilians or higher-ups, he'd be grateful for the time spent. He hustled through dressing afterwards and threw a handy Hot Pocket in the microwave while he set up his radio and comm, hooking his phone into the setup with minimal fuss. Hurrying out, Parker scarfed down his meal and bolted for his SUV, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

His remote starter brought the vehicle to life with a low rumble; scrambling in, he only had to hit the dashboard's start button before he could start moving. A quick verbal order to the car's in-built voice controls set his phone to call Kira on a backup line the SRU used for phone calls with the dispatchers, even in the midst of the most intense hot call.

She picked up at once, even as he pulled out of the parking garage onto the street. "Sir," she greeted him, sounding relieved.

"Kira, talk to me, what do we got?"

"High-risk warrant magic-side, sir," Kira reported. "The Auror Squad's been running thin, so it was just Team Three. They got most of their targets, sir, but the leader of the gang slipped the net and went tech-side."

"Team Four is going to stay tech-side?" Greg pressed.

"That's the plan, sir. We're trying to get Auror Squad backup, too, but they were executing their own warrants tonight, so they're still tied up with that."

Wonderful. Two teams of non-magicals, doing their best to catch a wizard with the ability to teleport and likely nothing left to lose. There was a reason they usually left fast-paced manhunts to the Auror Squad, but that wasn't an option this time.

"All right, I'm on my way, but in the meantime, get Team Four rolling. We've got to get in front of this. What do we know about our subject?"

"Suspect in a recent spate of human trafficking," Kira reeled off. "He's not just into humans, though, sir. Team Three found over a dozen vampires chained up in the house as well as three werewolves who were reported missing a couple weeks ago by their packmates." She trailed off, then ventured, "And…sirens? Naiads?"

Parker whistled. "So he's been trafficking in exotic beings, too."

"Yes, sir," Kira confirmed. "Sir? Do you know what those last two are?"

"Not offhand," the lieutenant admitted. "I know they've got to be sentient, though, and that's all I care about."

"Copy," the dispatcher agreed, tone fierce.

"Let's get a description out to the unis," Parker ordered. "Issue a BOLO: subject is high-risk, do not engage. SRU only."

"Copy that. Do you want me to plug you into Team Three's comm?"

"Negative. Let me get in and finished suiting up. Then we can see how this thing works."

Lieutenant Greg Parker strode into the barn and detoured to the cage long enough to retrieve his vests and sidearm, just in case. Then he headed for the atrium and Kira even as one hand checked his comm setup. Ready. Drawing in a deep breath, he picked up his pace; no matter what he personally felt about another hot call so soon and before he could mend fences with Team One, this was his job and his unit needed him to do it.

"Kira, get me on Team Three's comm," he ordered as he entered the atrium. "What's our status?"

"BOLO is out and Team Four's rolling for the latest sighting," Kira reported. "Unis are maintaining distance and your SUV is ready if you need it."

"Copy that," Parker acknowledged as the comm clicked. "Sergeant Cooper, what do we got?"

"A mess," Cooper summed up. "Most of the vics are starving, Parker; Donna almost got jumped by a vamp, but the werewolf chained up right next to it kept her from getting bit."

Grimacing, the lieutenant asked, "We got on-scene Healers?"

"Sure do, but it's gonna take 'em awhile to get to all the vics. Some of the vamps are babbling about drinks for two, whatever that means, and I'm seeing silver scars on our three werewolves."

"Bottom line?" Greg pressed; he felt badly about the victims, but with a subject still on the loose, he needed Team Three.

"Gonna be another hour or so before we can roll again, Lieutenant. Sorry."

"Copy that," Greg replied, shunting any disappointment aside. "Check in when you can, Sergeant."

"Copy," Cooper grunted before signing off.

Turning towards Kira, one brow arched. Nodding, she shifted his comm to Team Four's channel. "Team Four, report."

"Still enroute," Sergeant Vio informed him. "Running lights and sirens, but if this guy realizes we're onto him…"

"You've got your armor, right?"

"Yeah, but…"

"As long as he doesn't throw any AKs, you should be fine," Greg informed the newest magic-side team. "That gear's gotten Team One through more jams than I like to think about most days."

"Copy," Vio acknowledged. "Valchos, distance check."

"Almost there, Sarge. Less than a kilometer."

"Copy. Team, kill the sirens. We don't need our guy rabbiting."

Parker clicked off as the team acknowledged the orders. While he was hopeful that Team Four could catch their subject without further incident, he wasn't holding his breath. "Kira, stay with Team Four; swap me back to Team Three."

"Copy that, Lieutenant."

By the time the sun came up, Greg was exhausted. Their subject had escaped Team Four's first attempt to arrest him and fled back magic-side, forcing Team Four to abandon their trucks as they pursued their target, but as time wore on, Team Three managed to tear themselves away from their initial warrant location and join the hunt. A group of patrol Aurors Side-Along Apparated Team Four back to their trucks and the Auror Squad wrapped up their own warrant call enough to swing into action.

Greg himself had remained at the barn for most of the night, coordinating between first two, then three separate teams, a complex task that left him with a headache as he fought to balance the need to coordinate with the vastly different make-ups of the teams involved. As the pace picked up and the manhunt closed in around their subject, Parker suspended his involvement long enough to reach his SUV, then pulled out, already back in the chaos of swapping between the three teams under his authority as they fought to bring the call to a conclusion.

"Team Four, are you in position?" Greg asked as he maneuvered past a driver who must've been deaf to have missed the wail of his SUV's siren.

"In position," Sergeant Vio reported. "On your go, sir."

"Standby," Parker ordered, swapping channels. "Team Three, in position?"

"Ready," Cooper replied. "We got most of the Auror Squad with us, Parker. Rest of 'em are putting up Anti-Transportation wards. Won't last long, but should hold."

"Copy," Greg acknowledged. "I need your team to swap channels to channel two. We need everyone on the same channel if this is going to work."

"Copy that, Parker."

Steering with one hand, the lieutenant swapped back to channel two, waiting several critical seconds before speaking. "Comm check."

Team Four reported in, Team Three a beat behind them.

With all SRU officers on channel two, Parker drew in a deep breath. "Inspector Simmons, is your team ready?"

He heard a rustling, then Simmons' voice came on the line. "We're ready, Parker. Wards are up."

"Good." For another beat, he held his breath, then ordered, "SRU, move in. Take the subjects down."

A flurry of additional orders followed his own as the two teams snapped into action, making entry and bringing down not just their primary subject, but a number of wizards who'd been involved with the exploitation of far too many innocent beings.

Greg sighed as he regarded the building. A tech-side building and yet it was where their wizard subjects had gone to ground. Not any more, though; even as he watched, his teams were mopping up the last of their targets and it wouldn't be long before the night-long manhunt would be over. Thank Aslan; even at the top of his game, an all-nighter was not fun. The pull of exhaustion and the strain of his muscles told him that although he'd almost fully recovered from his ordeal, he wasn't all the way back. Not yet and maybe not ever. It was entirely possible that his body had taken permanent damage from what had happened and he'd never be the cop he'd once been.

Still, nothing to be done about it now. Parker leaned against his vehicle, closing his eyes to snatch a moment's rest.

"Sir?"

Turning, the lieutenant nodded thanks and accepted the cup of coffee from a uniformed patrol cop who'd volunteered to go get drinks for everyone on-scene. He sipped the brew, praying the caffeine would hit his system fast. Slower than a Pepper-Up Potion, but probably safer, too. Hazel trailed back to the building as his tired mind struggled to organize a list of what still needed to be done. Paperwork, transcripts, debriefings. He could just see his day spreading out in front of him, demanding time he didn't have and energy he'd already depleted.

Another sigh escaped and Greg set his coffee cup down on the hood of his SRU SUV. He'd used it before, but this was its first real hot call. Although it had a voice-control system like his own SUV, he couldn't control his comm like he could his phone. Maybe that could be added? Let him switch channels without taking his hands off the steering wheel? That would be nice.

Something brushed against his magic and he turned without thought, hazel landing on a young man who'd paused to watch the action. Brown hair swept back from his face, a fringe standing up and several locks of hair untamed as it fell to the nape of his neck. Tall and solid, yet he had a gangly look to his limbs that told Greg he was still growing into his adult self. Sapphire studied the officers, though he avoided looking towards the curious lieutenant. Something about him tugged at Parker, a lingering familiarity that made no sense; he'd never seen this young man before in his life. But he couldn't stop watching the young man and his soul wrenched in his chest, screaming for recognition. Howling in grief, but for what?

Then sapphire focused on him, widening in surprise and Greg realized he'd come over to the yellow tape, irresistibly drawn by the familiar stranger whose magic called to his own. One brow rose. "Looking for someone?"

The brunet looked down, swallowing hard. "I, um, if you arrested who I think you did, he's got four kids at home. They'd probably be happy to be anywhere but there, if you know what I mean, sir."

Patient, Greg waited for the rest.

Hesitant, the brunet held out a folded note. "That's his address, sir."

"You know his kids?" Parker inquired, taking the note.

"I used to, but it's been awhile," the young man replied. Shifting, he finally met Greg's eyes. "Good luck to you, Lieutenant Parker, sir."

Before Greg could think of a response, the boy was gone and his soul was howling denial. Sobbing with grief and yet…he didn't understand why. He'd never met the brunet before in his life, he'd swear to it. But as he looked down at the note in his hands and unfolded it to find the promised address, Parker felt moisture trickle down his face.

As if he'd looked someone he loved in the eye and turned them away without a second glance.