Epilogue

Commander Holleran read through the latest report, shock reverberating. He'd already read the report four times and yet…the words refused to sink in. The commander stopped, hands trembling as he found a notebook and pen. Flipping the notebook open to a fresh page, he checked the pen, then started reading from the top, forcing himself to stick to just the facts. Just the highlights.

Fact: the bodies recovered from the fire had died of gunshot wounds, a minor blessing. One body had some traces of soot in the lungs, while the other body had none. Moreover, the gunshots had been to core areas; death would've been quick, if not instantaneous. Far more merciful than dying to smoke or fire.

Fact: the bodies were, as yet, still unidentified. X-rays had been taken for dental comparisons, but even with an officer-involved crime, the backlog meant it would be another month before the comparisons would even be looked at, much less matched to Parker's already submitted records. DNA was no better, what with a six month backlog.

Fact: the body with no soot in its lungs had hips slightly wider than the shoulders and its spine was curved. Although the damage from the fire was severe, preliminary tests had confirmed the coroner's suspicions. The body was female. The other body had been double-checked; it was male.

Hope begged to be let loose, but Holleran schooled himself. As much as he wanted Greg to be alive, there was no way his Sergeant would've left his coworkers and teammates in such agony. If Greg was alive, he would've checked in within hours; at worst, perhaps a day or two. Parker was too good a friend, too good an officer to simply abandon his people and his family. No, there was only one possible conclusion. Castor Troy was alive. Castor Troy had killed one of the best men the commander had ever served with.

Rage. Hate. Holleran's fists clenched, his soul screaming for justice and revenge in equal measure. And yet… Greg wouldn't have wanted his team or his commander to throw away their morals for his murderer. No. They had to take Troy down the right way. For Greg's sake. For their own sake.

Castor Troy would answer for every last murder, every last killing. His crimes would be exposed and those who'd helped him would reap the rewards they so richly deserved. Nothing less would do for a cop killer.

I'm sorry, Greg. I tried to pull you out, but she stopped me. Commander Holleran turned his head away, shame stirring. He should've realized, should've put the clues together faster. He should've told Team One the truth as soon as Greg told him Kastor was Troy's sister. Should've, should've, should've. He hadn't and Greg had paid the price. Made the ultimate sacrifice for his guys.

A knock sounded at his door.

For a long moment, Holleran slumped behind his desk, the weight of his – their – loss too heavy to carry. Then he lifted his head and called, "Enter."

The door creaked open and Winnie craned her head in. "Sir? Sergeant Lane just called. They solved the case and handed the suspects over to the Mounties. He said it might take two days to drive back…"

"That's fine, Winnie," the commander replied. "Thank you for informing me."

Winnie nodded and pulled away, closing the door. Holleran listened as her footsteps trailed away. Two, three days, then he'd have to tell Lane that Troy was still alive. Still on the loose and with another cop on his body count. Raw grief rose, but he pushed it away. Parker had been one of his officers and he'd let him down. Greg had been trusting him to act calmly and rationally, no matter the provocation and what had he done? He'd gone and gotten himself shot.

Alone in a dark, empty office, Commander Norm Holleran clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and vowed he wouldn't let his Sergeant die in vain. After a minute, he rose and retrieved Parker's personnel file photo from his desk. Taking the photo over to the window, he set it down long enough to pour a small drink. Lifting the glass, he picked up the picture and toasted it sadly. "We'll get him, Greg, I promise. He won't get away with this."

Turning, Holleran gazed out at the city, sipping his drink as he thought hard about their next steps. He wouldn't quit, not until Castor Troy was stopped. Or dead.

~ Fin

Author note: And fade to black... I hope everyone enjoyed this story (and KITT!) As your faithful author, I had such fun with the Mission Impossible jailbreak and our favorite detectives' wild ride from the 80s! As always, I adore reviews and promise to cherish each and every one of them, so please spare a few minutes to tell me what you think.

In the meantime, we will move right into the next story. On Friday, December 4th 2020, we'll be heading back to the main Flashpoint archive to start "Homeward Bound".

See You on the Battlefield!