Chapter Twelve

"Well, he definitely didn't go to a carwash," Chloe declared. "His car was filthy—according to one of his statements, he had to drive it out to one of his construction sites the day of the murder because his work truck was in the shop. See all that mud caked around the wheel wells? The handles are literally the only parts of his car that're clean. No prints at all on the passenger side, and just the one set of Martin's prints on the driver's side."

Chloe was about to get up and write the new clue on the board, when Lucifer suddenly gripped her leg.

"Do you feel that?" he asked.

"Feel what?"

"The room is tilting."

She turned to study his face and finally understood what Dan meant when he used to say she was "green around the gills" back when she was pregnant with Trixie. Chloe had been prone to fainting spells in the first trimester. Not to mention morning sickness.

"The room's not moving," she assured her partner. "You're just dizzy—probably a little head rush from all that 'top-shelf' oxygen you were sucking in. Put your head down between your legs and you'll feel better."

Lucifer did as instructed, still holding tight to her kneecap like it was the only thing keeping him in place. Chloe set a comforting hand on his back to help ground him.

"I usually love…a good rush," Lucifer said, his voice weak and muffled from the position. "Not too fond of this one, though."

"Feels pretty crummy, huh?" Chloe asked, rubbing soft circles on his lower back.

"It feels like I'm about to fall..."

"You're not going to fall," she promised.

Lucifer turned his head to look up at her, his face still very white. He gave her a small, sad smile. "Too late."

Chloe smiled back, despite the lump in her throat. She waited until Lucifer's dizziness had passed and he was sitting up on the bench again. Then she got up to write, "Door handles wiped clean?" in the clue box.

"Do you really think…it means something?" Lucifer asked breathlessly, his eyes flicking briefly onto the oxygen mask before coming back to meet hers.

"I'm not sure." Chloe settled in beside him and turned the valve on the canister. She adjusted the dial and handed him the mask.

"All I can do right now is follow my gut," she went on.

"And what is your gut telling you?" Lucifer asked from under the mask. Already his breathing was less labored than it had been a minute ago. "Aside from begging you to stop abusing it with those horrid vending machine sandwiches at the precinct?"

Chloe half-smiled at his joke. "It's telling me that something's fishy with this case. I'm not sure what yet, but until I am, anything that smells even a little bit like day-old shark bait is going on that list."

Lucifer nodded, his breaths puffing white against the plastic.

Chloe's gaze landed, unbidden, on the tank's gauge. Two-thirds full, dipping steadily towards a half. She looked at the clock ticking away on the table, each second a precious grain of sand.

Thirteen hours, forty-six minutes left to save Lucifer's life, stop Martin's execution, and solve a cold case using only the notes on hand.

Really, all they needed was a miracle.

Easy, peasy, lemon squeezy. That's what Trixie would say, if she were here right now. Or, more likely, the vulgar version of that saying Maze had taught her. Which Chloe refused to repeat, even in the privacy of her own thoughts.

Chloe shook her head at the Trixie in her mind, aching for the real one. No, baby. It's not easy. It is very, very hard.

Imaginary Trixie blinked at Chloe, all brown doe eyes and hope and innocence. But isn't Lucifer's Daddy God?

Yeah, He is, but…

And can't God do anything, even make miracles?

Chloe swallowed. Yes, He can, but…

Then He'll make one to save Lucifer! Trixie beamed at her own logic.

Tears prickled Chloe's eyes. I'm not sure He will, baby.

If I was sick, Daddy would do anything to help me get better.

Chloe smiled. Yes, he would. He'd even put on your new alien barrettes and wear them to work.

Trixie giggled at the notion.

But Lucifer's Daddy is…different.

How? Trixie asked, frowning.

It's complicated. They had a big fight a long time ago and they don't talk to each other anymore.

The doe eyes became wounded, uncertain. But Lucifer's Daddy still loves him, right?

Chloe bit her lip. I think so.

Then He'll help, Trixie assured her, confidence fully restored. You just have to ask Him.

I don't know, Monkey. Sometimes it's not that simple.

Trixie's eyes turned reproachful. It can't hurt to ask, Mommy. That's what you tell me whenever I want to eat chocolate cake for breakfast.

I also tell you no, you little weasel! Chloe leaned in to tickle her daughter, giggling along with the little girl.

They both had tears of laughter in their eyes now and Chloe sighed, part happy, part wistful, because the real Trixie was getting too old for tickle fights.

But you'll ask Him, right? imaginary Trixie persisted.

Chloe smiled. Yeah.

How was it that even when there were miles and solid iron walls separating them, even when Chloe's heart was full-to-brimming with anger and despair, Trixie could still lift her up?

That little girl was the real miracle.

"You're not getting a contact high, are you?" Lucifer asked, snapping her from her reverie.

Chloe blinked. "What?"

"You've got a funny smile on your face."

Her expression soured. Why did he always have to point out when she made weird faces?

"Gee, thanks," she said flatly.

"I didn't say it was unattractive." Lucifer cleared his throat and adjusted the oxygen mask. "Seriously though, what were you thinking about?" He cocked his head, eyes luminous with gentle curiosity as he waited for her answer.

"Trixie," she said.

"Ah." Lucifer nodded sagely. "Well, you'll get to see her in thirteen hours, give or take."

"We'll both get to see her in thirteen hours," Chloe said firmly.

Lucifer said nothing, just smiled faintly under the mask. He couldn't agree with her. Not when it might be a lie.

Chloe needed to do everything in her power to make sure it wasn't. And so far, she hadn't. Not quite, anyway. She waited until Lucifer's attention was back on the computer screen, then shifted her gaze skyward.

Okay, God…um, I know I spent most of my life not believing in You, but this is me, Chloe Decker, asking for a favor…