Author's Note: I hope that you all know how grateful I am for your reviews. Every single one of them is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rookie Blue.

The next morning, Sam sat at one of the tables in the parade room, waiting for Best to begin his daily report.

Detective Jo Rosati sat next to him but he had even less use for her than he did her partner and he was fairly certain she felt the same way about him, so after a perfunctory "Good Morning" they had both gone back to ignoring the other. Jo ducked her head and played on her phone, furiously scrolling through emails, while Sam sat with his arms crossed, slowly scratching the underside of his jaw, quietly pondering the information he had gathered earlier that morning.

It had been easier than he expected to find out who Andy's training officer was. He'd entered the locker room to find Diaz and Epstein chatting amiably while they got ready for the day.

Coming up behind them, he folded his arms in front of his chest and narrowed his eyes. When he coughed to get their attention, they both jumped and spun around, almost falling against the lockers in their haste.

He could have sworn it looked Epstein almost saluted him.

It would have been amusing if there weren't more pressing issues at hand. He motioned between the two of them and asked, "Either of you know who McNally's training officer is?"

They looked at each other and then Epstein cleared his throat and nodded. "Yes sir."

Sam waited a second and when Epstein didn't offer any more information he shook his head slightly. "Well?" He prompted. "Who is it?"

"Donovan Boyd, sir," Diaz answered.

Sam leaned forward, hoping he hadn't heard correctly. "Boyd?"

"Yes, sir," Diaz confirmed.

"Donovan Boyd?" He repeated once again for clarification.

Epstein nodded.

"Huh," Sam grunted. Trying to conceal his own less than genial feelings towards the man, he jutted his chin out and asked, "He pretty hard on her?"

Again the two looked at each other and Sam could practically see them carrying on a conversation with their eyes. "Hey," he said, stomping his foot on the ground, "What's going on?"

Dov turned back to him. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Sam almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. "Sure," he replied, waving his hand, "Whatever."

Dov glanced at Chris and then lowered his voice, "We've been trying to get her to complain about him for a while."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"He's a bully," Chris blurted out, quickly adding, "Sir. He yells at her all the time, he calls her names, he writes her up for every little thing, he even…" he broke off, hesitating.

"He even what, Diaz?" Sam prompted.

"He says inappropriate things to her," Chris told him, "Really inappropriate things."

"Like what?"

"Well, I don't know how well you know Andy, but she can be a kind of a talker. She asks a lot of questions."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, so?"

"When they first started riding together," he paused, "Boyd told her that the only reason her mouth should be open around him was if she was doing something other than talking."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he blinked rapidly, genuinely stunned.

When he didn't say anything in response, Chris tried to explain, "You know… something other than talking… that involves a girl's mouth being open…" he gave Sam a significant look.

Sam held his hand up to get Chris to stop. "Yeah, I know what he was talking about." He took a breath. "She told you he said that?"

Dov shook his head, "She told Traci one night. We all kinda compared notes one day."

"Okay, so, why hasn't she complained?"

Dov shrugged, "She thinks it's just rookie initiation stuff and that she should just deal with it. She doesn't want to get anyone in trouble."

Sam nodded slowly, contemplatively. "Okay," he said. "Thanks." He started to turn to leave but noticed they were both still standing ramrod straight with their arms by their sides. "At ease, gentlemen."

As he sat waiting for parade, Sam ran the conversation through his head, trying to piece together what Diaz and Epstein had told him and what little he knew from Andy. He remembered the occasional mention of a rough day at work and how, on the day he told her about Sarah, she'd at first asked him to come back later if he was going to yell at her. He hadn't given it a second thought then, and honestly hadn't really thought about it since, but when added to the growing pile of evidence against Boyd, it was concerning.

Sam was pulled from his thoughts when a sharp, wet, warm object was jabbed into his ear and wiggled around. He swatted at the intrusion and turned in his chair to see Oliver pulling his finger back, grinning.

"Good morning brother," Oliver greeted cheerfully, taking the seat at the end of the table. When Sam just grunted in response he joked, "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"Don't say panties," Jo piped up, still absorbed in something on her phone.

Both men looked at her and then back looked at each other. Sam just shook his head, disregarding the blonde woman's interruption.

"Guess who…" Sam hesitated, not entirely comfortable with Rosati overhearing his conversation about Andy, "My neighbor's training officer is?"

Oliver perked up but before he could respond, a decidedly female voice spoke. "I know Andy McNally is your neighbor," Jo said, still not looking over at them. "You don't have to try and be cryptic."

"Do you always interrupt people's private conversations?" Sam grumbled, scowling at the woman. "Or are we just especially lucky this morning?"

Jo glanced up from her phone. "I'm sorry," she said disingenuously, "I didn't realize the parade room was the place for private conversations."

Sam regarded her silently for a moment and then turned back to Oliver, amending his question, "Guess who McNally's training officer is?"

"Who?"

Sam looked at him pointedly and then revealed, "Donovan Boyd."

Oliver's face fell. "No," he said disbelievingly. Sam nodded sharply in affirmation.

"Why is that a bad thing?" Jo asked, her phone beeping with a new text message. She opened the message and read it, commenting, "Boyd's a solid police officer."

Sam groaned but resigned himself to the fact that the tiny blonde was going to push her way into the conversation regardless of how obvious he made it that she was not invited.

"Solid?" He repeated, turning to face her with an incredulous expression.

"His methods may be a little…" she tilted her head from side to side, searching for the right word, "Unconventional, but he's good. Tough, no nonsense. Besides, McNally could use someone who's not going to coddle her."

"Well," Sam said, leaning back in his chair, "There's a distinct difference between coddling and training and from what I've heard, neither is going on."

"What?" Jo asked, smirking. "Is McNally complaining to you about her big, bad training officer?"

Sam ran his tongue over his top teeth, making a harsh sucking noise, before replying, "As a matter of fact, she isn't."

Oliver cut into the conversation, asking, "How'd you find out?"

Sam gave a quick, almost infinitesimal shake of his head. There was no way he was going to tell Oliver about the bruise he had seen in front of Rosati. "Doesn't matter," he said while eyeing Oliver, trying to communicate that he'd tell him later. He turned back to Rosati. "Callaghan isn't at all concerned that Boyd is his girlfriend's TO?"

"Why would he be concerned?" she asked, as if the very thought were absurd.

"Boyd's track record of keeping the people he's responsible for safe is, quite frankly, shameful," Oliver answered.

"If you're talking about the Jamie Brennan case, I think you've got your details wrong," Jo said immediately, knowing what he was referring to.

Oliver and Sam exchanged a puzzled look and then Sam turned to Jo. "Yeah? What do you know about Jamie Brennan?"

She shrugged. "Callaghan and I were still working out of headquarters at the time, but we got the gist of the story."

"Oh yeah? And what's the gist of the story?" Oliver asked, settling his forearms against the table and leaning in, interested in what the woman was going to say.

"It was Boyd's first big case as the handler, his UC guy screwed his cover and got himself made and roughed up a little bit," she acknowledged, raising one shoulder and then letting it drop. "Boyd had to take the fall."

"Roughed up a bit, huh?" Sam asked, feigning ignorance. "I heard it was a little more serious than that."

"Compared to Brennan's other vics, I'd guess the guy got off pretty easily."

Oliver went to say something, but Sam put his hand out, stopping him. "Do you know who the undercover guy was?"

Jo pursed her lips and shook her head, "No. Just some dumbass loser who couldn't keep it together." Oliver unsuccessfully tried to keep a grin off of his face and when Sam kicked him under the table he stifled a groan. Jo arched an eyebrow at the interruption but continued, "Apparently he had friends in high places, because from what I heard, he didn't even get a slap on the wrist while Boyd got suspended from Guns and Gangs."

Sam pretended to think over the information she had given them. "And you're certain it wasn't Boyd's fault?"

"No way," Jo said. "I went through the academy with the guy. He's definitely a hardass, but he's a great cop."

"Interesting," Oliver mused. He looked back at Sam and admitted, "That's not the way I remember it going down at all."

"Well, no offense to you guys, but my sources probably have a little higher clearance than you do."

Oliver sucked in his cheeks. "Right, right, right," he said quickly before chewing on his bottom lip. "Because you're a detective and we're just lowly beat cops."

"Hey, that's not…" Jo held up her hand, trying to backtrack, but Oliver cut her off.

"No, no, that's understandable. Hey Jerry," Oliver called out to the detective who had just entered the parade room, "C'mere for a second, would you?"

Jerry said something to the uniformed officer he had been talking to and then made his way over to the group. "What's up? He asked, coming to stand In front of their table.

"You're a detective," Oliver stated, "Right?"

In her seat, Jo just rolled her eyes.

Jerry nodded, looking slightly confused. "Right."

"Good, maybe you can clear something up for us. You remember Jamie Brennan?"

Jerry's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, of course I do."

"Do you remember who the arresting officer was?" Oliver asked seriously.

Jerry pushed the sides of his suit jacket back and brought his hands to rest his narrow hips. He stared at his two friends for a moment, his jaw slack to one side, before asking, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"No joke," Sam assured him. "We were just having a little disagreement with Detective Rosati here and we were hoping you could help sort things out."

"Oh," Jerry said, finally recognizing what was going on. "Well, if I recall correctly, the arresting officer was you, Shaw."

Oliver snapped his fingers together. "You know what? You are absolutely correct. I was the arresting officer. Man, it was just so long ago…" he broke off, shaking his head.

Jo looked between the three men. Her previously haughty expression turned uncomfortable as realization dawned. "Jamie Brennan was arrested by police officers at fifteen," she said slowly, remembering. "Because the undercover officer was one of your guys."

Sam nodded, grinning humorlessly. "Hi," he stuck out his hand, "I'm the dumbass loser who couldn't keep it together. Nice to meet you."

She ignored his outstretched hand and smiled tightly, trying to save face. "I was never told the real name of the undercover officer."

"Guess your sources weren't that informative," Sam supposed out loud.

"I've got to go," Jerry said, watching as Traci Nash entered the room. "We clear here?"

"Yeah, I think we're clear," Oliver said. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Jerry replied before making his way over to the rookie.

Jo hitched her thumb behind her shoulder. "I need to go talk to Callaghan," she said, standing up, "We've, uh, got some stuff to go over."

"Yeah, you should do that," Sam agreed with mock sincerity. "You wouldn't want to get your facts messed up."

Jo shot him a dirty look, but turned on her heel and stomped away, muttering, "Assholes," under her breath.

Sam watched her go and then turned back to Oliver. "That was actually kind of fun."

"It was like watching a train wreck," Oliver agreed. "A well-deserved train wreck with only one annoying casualty." He shook his head but then his expression became serious. "So, he's McNally's training officer?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah."

"And I'm guessing there's a problem?"

Sam lowered his voice, "Last night, she came over for dinner." Oliver raised an eyebrow suggestively and Sam quickly cut him off, "Don't look at me like that, I get enough of that crap from Lindsey."

"Well, Lindsey's very perceptive," Oliver claimed. "It's something we have in common."

"She's also a twelve year old girl," Sam shot back. "Wanna keep drawing the comparisons?"

"See now, that's just rude."

Sam ignored him and went back to what he had been saying, "She came over for dinner last night and she had this bruise on her arm, like someone had grabbed her, like this," he said, demonstrating on Oliver. "At first she didn't want to talk about it but I finally get her to admit it was her TO. She wouldn't even tell me it was Boyd, I had to find that out on my own."

Oliver looked alarmed. "Did she say what happened?"

Sam shook his head. "Just that it was an accident, that he pulled her arm a little too hard. But then this morning I talked to Epstein and Diaz and they said she's been having all kinds of problems with him. If what they said is true… it's pretty serious."

"Well, you need to get her to file a complaint," Oliver advised.

Sam scoffed, "What good is that going to do? You and I both know what'll happen- they'll look into it, it'll be his word against hers, and since he's the superior officer nothing with change."

"Sammy, I know that right now, you're sitting here wondering how quickly you can make it over to twenty seven and beat the crap out of the guy," Oliver guessed, "But you can't do that."

"Boyd is dangerous," Sam asserted, his voice low. "The last thing Lindsey needs is for something to happen to someone that she's just getting comfortable around …"

Oliver cut him off. "The last thing Lindsey needs or the last thing you need?"

Sam sucked in a breath and stared at his friend. A moment passed and the question weighed heavy between them. "That's not… " He paused to clear his throat, "That's not even what it's about."

"Look, Sam, I get it. She's nice and she helps you out with Lindsey and she's pretty easy on the eyes," He shrugged, "It's only natural that you'd start to care about her."

"Okay, it's not that I care about her," Sam replied defensively, "It's that what's going on is wrong, and someone needs to put a stop to it."

"Well, you can't be that person buddy, not with your history with the guy. She's got to do it. And you cannot, let me be clear, you cannot take matters in your own hands."

Sam bit down on the inside of his cheek, knowing Oliver was right. "Yeah, okay," he reluctantly agreed.

Best walked up to the podium to begin parade, effectively ending their conversation. Oliver gave Sam a final pointed look with unmistakable meaning and then turned his attention to the front of the room.

Later that afternoon, Andy hurried to her front door when she heard someone frantically knocking. Opening it, she found a very distraught Sam standing on her porch. Anxiety was rolling of him like waves and she was immediately concerned. "Sam," she said, "What's wrong?"

"Well McNally, my niece has locked herself in the bathroom," Sam replied, pointing back to his house.

Andy stepped out onto her porch and pulled her sweater tightly around her. "Did she say why? Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Sam said, shaking his head. He began pacing and explained, "She came home from school, stomped upstairs yelling something about God being a man and slammed the bathroom door."

"Oh," Andy said, nodding in understanding.

"Oh," he repeated, "What do you mean 'oh'?"

"What do you mean, what do I mean?" Andy asked, confused. It was then that she realized Sam had no idea what was going on. "Okay Sam… hey, Sam," she grabbed hold of his arm, stilling his movements. "Take a breath."

Sam obeyed her instruction, inhaling deeply. "Can you just come over? She asked me to get you."

"Yeah, sure," Andy said, reaching behind her to close the door. She guided Sam back to his house and then told him to wait in the living room while she went to check on Lindsey. Several minutes later she came back downstairs

"Is she okay?" Sam asked, getting to his feet.

"Yeah, she's gonna be fine," Andy assured him. "Listen, can I borrow your truck? I need to run get her some things and it's kind of a time sensitive matter."

Sam looked at her dubiously. "You want to borrow my truck?"

"I'm not asking for one of your kidneys, Sam," Andy said, rolling her eyes. "Just your truck."

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Fine," Andy agreed, setting her jaw. "Do you want to go buy your niece some tampons?"

Sam's eyes widened almost comically. "Oh," he said, "OH."

Andy nodded. "Yeah."

"She's too young for that," Sam stated, looking uncertain. "Isn't she?"

"No," Andy said, shaking her head. "She's really not." She held out her hand. "Now, keys please."

Without argument, Sam fished the keys out of his pocket and threw them to her.

Andy caught them easily. She started to walk away but then thought of something. "Look," she said, turning back to him, "Just leave her alone until I get back, okay? She's embarrassed."

"Okay," he agreed. "Hey, wait a second." He pulled his wallet out and took out his credit card, handing it over to her. "Stock up, would you?"

Andy chuckled as she took the card from him. "I can do that," she promised.

She was gone for less than thirty minutes and when she returned, Sam met her at the front door. She was loaded down with bags and nodded back towards the truck. "There's more out there. And you can check to make sure everything is in one piece," she told him, winking.

He brought the rest of the bags in for her, grumbling when he reached the kitchen, "When I said stock up I meant on hygiene products, not on potato chips and chocolate."

"I didn't just get potato chips and chocolate," Andy argued.

"What is all this?" he asked, poking through the bags. "Midol? Andy, I have Advil."

"It's not the same. And that's a heating pad," she said, pointing to the object he was holding. "Look, I just assumed you wouldn't have any of this stuff, so I got whatever I could think of."

"I appreciate that, but really," he held up a giant Hershey's bar, "could this be any more of a cliché?"

"Well, it's a cliché for a reason Sam," Andy explained. She opened the pantry door and looked inside, "Trust me, she's going to want to have something to eat other than… " she pulled out a box of crackers, "What is this? Rye crisps? That sounds disgusting." She replaced the box, shaking her head. "Nothing beats a bag of Ruffles followed by a KitKat when you're PMSing."

"Well, I'll just have to take your word on that one." Sam leaned back against the counter, watching her efficiently move around his kitchen, unloading the groceries she had purchased. Restless and needing something to do, he started pulling stuff out of the bags. "I thought you said you were buying tampons," he said, holding a package of pads up in the air.

She glanced back at him. "I wasn't sure what she'd be more comfortable with."

He turned the package over in his hands and read the description. "What the hell is a flexi-wing?"

Andy chuckled and turned to face him. "Really Sam, you're acting like you've never been in a relationship before." Her eyes widened and she grinned, teasing, "Oh my god, are you a forty year old virgin?"

He set the pads down on the counter and turned to her, asking seriously, "You think I'm forty?"

"That's the part you object to, really? Not the virgin part?"

"Obviously I'm not a virgin McNally. I mean," he gestured to himself, "Look at me."

Andy looked him up and down. "What am I'm supposed to be seeing?" She asked blankly. When he smirked she just grinned back. "I'm kidding. Look, try not to act freaked out by this, okay? It'll just make things even more awkward."

"I'm not freaked out," he claimed. She shot him a skeptical look and he insisted, "I'm not. I just wish she would have told me what was going on."

Andy sighed, realizing that he took it as some kind of personal failure that Lindsey hadn't confided in him. "Sam, when I was her age, I stole pads from the nurse's supply closet at school for months so that I wouldn't have to tell my dad. The only reason I finally did tell him was because I got caught and had to explain why I had Saturday detention." She smiled reassuringly, "It's not you. It's men in general. No matter how uncomfortable you are with this whole thing, Lindsey's about a hundred times more uncomfortable. She's twelve and despite how mature she seems, it's just embarrassing."

Sam exhaled heavily and dropped his head. "I know. I just wish…" he trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Her mom was here?" Andy finished.

He looked up at her and she didn't miss the anger that flashed through his eyes. She held his gaze steady though and after a second he nodded.

"No offense to you," Andy said carefully, "But I'm sure Lindsey does too. I know I wanted my mom." She shrugged and smiled sadly, "There's nothing you can do about it though. And you can't beat yourself up for not being her mom."

There was a stretch of silence, heavy and tense, and then Sam coughed to clear his throat. "How'd you get so wise?" He joked, lightening the mood.

"Just comes naturally," she replied with false modesty, brushing her knuckles against her shirt. She shook her head and took a deep breath, "You're just lucky I moved in next door when I did."

She was teasing him, but Sam knew there was truth in what she said. He thought back to the conversations he'd had earlier that day, and Oliver's words rang in his ears.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Listen, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

"What's that?" Andy asked innocently, leaning against the counter next to him. Her expression was relaxed and bright and for a second he debated with himself, knowing she was more than likely going to get upset with him.

"I know who your training officer is," he said. "Donovan Boyd."

As he'd expected, she stiffened and folded her arms in front of her chest guardedly. "How'd you find that out?"

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively, waving his hand. "Andy, this is serious. You need to file a complaint against him."

She scoffed, rolling her eyes, "There's no reason to do that."

"Don't give me that," Sam said, "I saw your arm, remember?"

"I told you it was an accident," she replied, breaking eye contact.

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident or not, he should never have put his hands on you," Sam told her. "That's not all, is it? What does he say to you?"

Andy sighed and shook her head, flustered and frustrated. "It's not that a of big deal. Luke says that I just need to stick it out."

Sam rolled his eyes at the mention of her boyfriend. "Well, Callaghan's an idiot and doesn't know what he's talking about."

"It's just typical rookie stuff Sam," Andy maintained, not bothering to get into an argument about Luke. "There's no reason to make it a bigger deal than it is."

"Typical rookie stuff?" He repeated. "So…. what? You think he's just being a hardass, is that it?"

"Yes," she replied. "That's it."

"Huh," Sam huffed sarcastically. "That's interesting. I'm pretty sure most of my rookies would call me a hardass, but you know what?"

"What?" she snapped.

"Never once have I suggested that one of them should perform oral sex instead of asking questions."

It was his ace in the hole and he hadn't intended to bring it up, but the words came flying out of his mouth before he could stop them.

She visibly recoiled. "Who told you that?"

"Who cares who told me?" Sam asked indignantly. "Did he say that?"

She sighed, looking away. "It was Chris, wasn't it?"

"Andy," Sam said, growing more incensed by the second, "Did he really say?"

"I may have misinterpreted…" She tried to reason, but he cut her off when he slammed his hand down on the counter.

She flinched at the loud noise and then looked towards the stairs. "Keep it down. Lindsey's upstairs."

When he spoke again, his voice was unnaturally low and steady and she could tell he was fighting to control his anger. "That is sexual harassment, McNally. You have to report him."

"What good is reporting him going to do?" Andy seethed through clenched teeth. "He's going to deny everything and then be even more pissed at me than he already is."

Sam sighed. It was the same thing he'd told Oliver earlier that day and unfortunately, it was probably true. Unless there was concrete evidence of something Boyd had done or said, there was little that could be done.

"I have two months until I'm cut loose," Andy told him. "Two months," she repeated. "I can deal with him for two more months."

Sam eyed her carefully, taking in her determined expression. "Why don't you ask to be reassigned to another training officer?" He suggested.

She shook her head, "I can't." He started to argue with her but she continued, "Not without filing a formal complaint and having that on my record."

They stared at each other in stony silence.

"It's not right, Andy," he said after a moment. "He's not teaching you, he's making wildly inappropriate comments and he's taking advantage of his role as a training officer."

"I know," she acknowledged with a sigh of resignation. "I can handle it though."

Sam knew before the argument even began that it wasn't one he was going to be able win. Not against Andy, as infuriatingly stubborn as she was. "Promise me something," he said.

"What?"

"If it gets to the point where you can't handle it," he narrowed his eyes, hoping she would catch his meaning, "You'll tell me."

"I promise," she replied sincerely, meeting his gaze.

"Okay," he nodded sharply. His voiced hitched slightly as he admitted, "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Right." Andy smiled uneasily. "Lindsey'd probably be upset."

Sam smiled back, just as uneasily. "It's the last thing that Lindsey needs," he agreed.

A few days later, Sam and Dov were on patrol, riding together in comfortable silence. Sam had his left arm propped on the window ledge and was maneuvering through the streets of the city with ease.

"Sir," Dov broke the silence hesitantly. "Did you uh, did you ever get the chance to follow up on Officer Boyd? Andy's TO?"

Sam sighed and squinted into the morning sun. "I can't do anything unless McNally reports him. My hands are tied." He took his eyes off the road and glanced over at his rookie. "Why?"

Dov shrugged, "No reason, it's just, last night…"

"Last night what?"

"Last night when Chris and I got to the Penny," he paused and then explained, "It looked like Andy had been crying."

"What do you mean she had been crying?"

"Well, she wasn't sobbing or anything, but her eyes were red and she was doing this weird hiccupping thing," Dov told him, trying to demonstrate. "And there were tears. Not a lot of them, but they were definitely there."

Sam narrowed his eyes and his grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Do you know what happened?"

"I don't know the full story, just what Traci told us later, but apparently something happened and Andy threatened to complain and Boyd told her he'd ruin her career if she did," Dov relayed as much information as he knew. "Andy wants to be a police officer more than anything, sir. She'd be devastated if he took that away from her."

Sam thought it over. "You're certain she was crying because of Boyd?"

"Yes, sir. A hundred percent." Dov confirmed. "And Andy never cries."

Sam nodded slowly, carrying on an internal argument with himself. He'd been good; despite his initial reaction when he saw the bruise on Andy's arm, he'd stayed away from Boyd and had tried to get her to file a complaint. No one could say he hadn't at least tried to go about things the right way.

He noticed the trashcans that littered the sidewalks. "You know what today is?"

"It's Wednesday sir, the twelfth," Dov answered confidently.

"It's garbage day Epstein. You know what that means?"

"It means that the trash gets picked up today?" Dov guessed hesitantly.

"No, it means that McNally doesn't work today," Sam said. "And if McNally's not working…"

Dov grinned, finishing, "Boyd's not working."

Sam looked over at his rookie, impressed. "Nice work Epstein." He turned the computer monitor to the passenger's side. "Now find me his address. We're gonna pay him a little visit." He paused. "Well," he retracted, "I'm gonna pay him a little visit. You're going to sit in the cruiser and pretend like you don't see anything."

Dov nodded firmly. "I can absolutely do that, sir."

AN: There's more to the Sam/Boyd/Brennan story that will be revealed later. Thanks for reading!