They were investigating the murder of Andrew Russell, a lower-class car salesman found just outside his own house with a slashed throat. It should have been an open-and-shut case, but the evidence was slipping right out of their grasp, with suspicions on his wife Glenda remaining circumstantial.

The only potential witness was the couple's five-years old daughter, Katie. But coming from a dysfunctional family that managed to stay out of CPS's radar for years, she was trained to never speak to strangers of anything that happened behind closed doors. Three child psychologists tried and failed to get her to share, and without any psychical abuse or clear signs of trauma, it was difficult to build a solid case. It didn't help that the inside of the Russell house was bathed in bleach before the police arrived and Glenda had no prior records nor reputation for violence.

"The neighbors didn't hear anything", Chloe sighed, going through the statements again. "These kinds of communities protect each other and distrust the police by default. They don't want little Katie to go into the system even if it's the best that can happen to her."

Lucifer glanced at her over a tiny tower of stacked office supplies, feigning indifference. "Do you really think that?"

Chloe reached to grab a highlighter and the entire construction threatened to fall, causing him to hiss impatiently.

"If she was abused at home, then yes." She needed a breakthrough if Andrew's killer was to ever face justice. "Children need to be protected, even from their own parents, if said parents fail in their duty."

He supported the build with a strategically placed stapler and moved his hands away, watching it waver for a moment before standing still.

"Given that the system is any better", he muttered without a smile.

"Than leaving a kid alone with a potential murderer?", Chloe retorted, fixing her messy bun. "I'll take the chances. But nothing can be done unless we get one of them to talk."

She stood up, pushing slightly against the desk, enough for Lucifer's office Jenga tower to fall. He shrugged and rised after her, not bothering to pick up scattered supplies.

"Do you think you could get the truth out of Katie?", Chloe wondered, guiding them to the interrogation room. "I mean, hypothetically, your powers could help her open up." She imagined it for a moment, then distracted herself with an idea that made her smirk. "Though if you used them on Trixie, I doubt she'd want anything other than chocolate cake."

Lucifer stopped abruptly in the middle of the corridor and she turned around to meet his furious glare. "I would never", he uttered, deeply offended, and it made her pause.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

He scoffed, fixing his handcuffs distractedly. "Do you really think I would ever do that to a child?"

"I didn't..." She stared back at him in confusion, surprised by the sudden anger. "I was talking about the mojo thing. It's not like children really hide their desires, so I guess it wouldn't be necessary..."

"You misunderstand how it works, detective", he interrupted, stepping closer to her. "Premature minds are different. They don't yet know to hide what they long for." His voice changed and he spoke with strange, strained intonation. "The things they hide are those they feel ashamed of. To draw them out is to cause them pain and I would never do that."

Chloe moved back, taking a deep, controlled breath, as if it could calm them both.

"I'm sorry, I... didn't know. And I wouldn't ask you to, child psychologists handle those cases." Lucifer looked away from her in obvious distress, but remained silent. She carefully touched his shoulder, grounding him for what was about to come. "Let's go now, this is Glenda's last questioning. We have to do right by her remaining family."


Open-and-shut. Everything pointed to the wife killing her deadbeat husband and they only needed a glimpse, a shred of malice and intend to support the established motive. But cracking the small, resigned woman in front of them, covering her bruised hands with long sleeves, seemed cruel; Chloe approached her softly, sitting next to her, while Lucifer lingered in the back of the room.

"Did you kill him, Glenda?", she asked gently, putting the closed case file down on the metal table. The woman didn't meet her eyes; she couldn't afford a lawyer, but couldn't afford to break either.

"I didn't want him dead."

She didn't say no.

"Then what did you want?", Lucifer asked from under the wall, barely meeting her gaze. "What did you desire more than anything, than your dear husband's life?", he continued, stalking towards her, but his usual amusement was absent; he didn't enjoy charming her in the slightest.

"I wanted him to keep looking at me", Glenda replied, lost in the daze his mojo caused. Lucifer inhaled sharply, trying to move back, sensing what she was about to say, and Chloe followed his movement, perplexed.

"Why did you want him to look at you?", she pushed, not catching up, used to ignoring her partner's eccentric reactions. "What happened?"

The small woman fixed her eyes on her after Lucifer retreated to the shadows by the wall. "Because he was drunk", she said quietly through her shattering resolve. "I was drinking with him, so he'll have less, and it was... it was easier to take him if I was buzzed, too."

Chloe clenched her jaw, bracing herself for the story. She heard it too many times not to know what Glenda just decided to confess, even if she didn't understand why it made Lucifer so avoidant.

"My Katie was playing, just playing house on the floor, and he kept looking. So I took my top off, but she was pretending to be a cat and he looked."

The last piece of the puzzle fell into place and it felt like all air was sucked out of the room.

The interior felt too well-maintained now, too clean, with its painted walls, government-approved furniture and high-end surveillance system funded by the taxpayers. Underpaid cops were privileged enough to pass judgment on Glenda Russell, to hunt for evidence against her when they never saw her old kitchen with a broken stove, never felt the despair of addiction and financial insecurity, of only looking forward to the next day, never beyond.

"He asked her if she wanted milk and he stood up, so I moved in front of him, but he shoved me away." She touched her split right brow, held together by two butterfly bandages, but there was no fear in her face.

Not the first time. Did she even remember the first? Was she surprised, or did it only remind her of her friends' stories, of family home?

"He said, he said he just wanted to play together and he'll give her milk, 'cause Katie was a cat, and cats... A-and I wanted him to look at me, but he shoved me again, and the bottle broke, and..."

And the pain didn't matter.


They had enough evidence now and allowed the two officers on duty to escort Glenda out. She was silent and distant, mourning the loss of her daughter. Even with claims of justified defense when she slashed her husband's carotid artery, failing to report the crime and disposing of evidence put her at the disadvantage. Next time she will see Katie she may already be an adult with a family of her own.

Chloe returned to her desk, clenching the manila case folder, Lucifer following her in silence. She sat down to organize the paperwork one last time, composing herself.

"I had my fair share of domestic violence before I made detective, you know", she said, staring at her desk. "I got calls like that all the time. And yet... it still touches me." She could feel him looking and shook her head. "Maybe it shouldn't."

"It definitely should", he replied quietly, unscrewing his flask, though more to keep his hands busy than to enjoy the drink.

"Is that why... never children?" Chloe glanced up, but his gaze was buried in the past, unfocused. "The dark desires they hide, it's too often that, isn't it?"

He nodded absentmindedly, eons away from her.

"Is Glenda's husband... in Hell now?"

Lucifer blinked, brushing the memory away.

"He should be", he replied solemnly, hiding the flask and fixing his jacket.

He didn't say yes.