"I think this deserves another look. Please!" I thrust some of the paperwork that I'd gathered over Tom Sullivan's judge, James Garonne, under Ellison's nose. He took it sighing, and held it to his face.

"Okay, what am I looking at it. What am I seeing?"

"Don't you think it's funny that he'd put a kid away for self-defense? What's worse, this is a pretty common story. Kids, young, going to detention facilities for basically nothing. Possessing paraphernalia, first offense. Petty theft, he stole his Gameboy out of his teacher's desk, vandalism, trespassing. These are all minor misdemeanors, most are first time offenders. How is this normal?"

"You know, most people would say he's cleaning up the city."

I snorted at him. "He let that murdering gangster, Big Vinnie, walk, but put away a bunch of kids still wearing Elmo sneakers...There's a story here. A real story, and it's connected to Millcreek Juvenile Center." I flipped an old issue of the Bulletin at him that featured an article about Garonne.

"James "the Hammer" Garonne is a local hero. Good luck getting anyone to talk."

"You know as well as I do how quickly heroes can fall, especially around this place," my reference to Frank was not lost on him. "He's hiding behind his name, and his money, but he's just as dirty as the rest of them and I'm going to prove it."

I could tell he was finished when he flippantly lifted his hand in a "whatever" motion. I didn't impede his progress out of the office. He still saw me as something to protect. Not that he believed I needed protection, but because he still hadn't let Ben go, just like I hadn't. His death weighed on the office, still. I gathered my things and went to visit Tom. I had some very bad news to deliver.

I sat in a room with cold metal tables, bench style seating. Tom kept his eyes on his hands, venturing a glance up once or twice. I smiled each time, but the silence was heavy. Between now and the last time I had seen him, he'd gotten in a fight of some sort. His eye was heavily bruised and lip was split. The lip looked like it was in danger of reopening at any second.

We could hear the chatter from the other kids whose family came to visit. Tom pointedly refused to look at them. This made me nervous, and caused a lump to form in my throat.

"Hey Tom, it's really good to see you again." I extended my hand towards his face, attempting to run my fingers across the deeply swollen socket. He jerked backwards, not allowing me to touch him. Fair enough, I thought. "Does that hurt?"

"No." I nodded my head, trying to encourage him to say more. He didn't.

"I have something to tell you. It... It isn't going to be easy to hear, but I think you should know." I paused, waiting for him to stop me, or indicate that he wasn't interested in hearing, but he betrayed nothing. "Your mom...she..." He leaned closer, just fractionally, intent on hearing about her. "Tom, your mom got sicker, and she. She died."

Tears welled in his eyes and his fists clenched and unclenched. I continued with only a brief pause, "Is there someone that you want me to call, any family? Someone who can be here with you."

"I don't have no one ma'am. Not anymore." My heart broke for him. The boy was crying silently. His head bowed once more. I placed my hand on his and he didn't move. It opened a wound inside me that I had not felt in a long time, and I cried with him. We were a pitiful pair for the briefest time, before a guard indicated that it was time for me to depart. I released his hand.

"I'll come back okay. I'll come back and see you again. I'm so sorry." I could hear how little my words meant. I could feel their emptiness. Not because I didn't mean them, but because they were so powerless to ease his pain. I could leave, be around people I knew, cared about, but he would be alone, no one to grieve with him.

When I got outside, I unlocked my phone and dialed Foggy's number. It went to voicemail, but I needed to let him know that I was still around. That I was here and that we were family still.

"Hey, Foggy, it's Karen. I just wanted to let you know...Well, to tell you that I was thinking about you. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

I hung up. I didn't have anything left to give the day. Mostly zoned out, my feet carried me to a familiar place. The dripping ceiling of multi-colored lights made me smile and sigh. I walked inside.

"Table for one please."

I was ushered to an empty seat, and stared at the lights reflecting in the glass. I had brought Matt here once. I had tried to describe it to him, but now I know that he could see it, in his own way. I could only imagine how it looked through his, not eyes, but you know. Matt was still missing. We weren't on good terms, and now that he was gone, and now maybe we'd never be okay again. It was a pain that was hard to process.

I had been too lost in thought to notice the figure standing in front of me. I heard him clear his throat, startling me into the present.

"Got room for one more?" I look up and met Frank's eyes.

"Oh my god, Fr... Uh, it's so good to see you." I stood up, almost knocking over my drink, and threw my arms around his neck, hugging him to me tightly. He chuckled at my enthusiasm, but held tight. I only let him go when I could feel other people's eyes on us. I smiled and waved a hand at the seat across from me. Instead of taking it, he sat next to me, pushing me closer to the window.

"Look like you might hurt yourself, thinking that hard." I shook my head at him.

"I've got a lot on my mind."

"Red?"

"Yeah, among other things...Like where in the hell you've been." He moved slightly, discomfort maybe.

"I was wrong you know."

"About what?"

"You and red. When I told you to hang on tight? I was hurting and just wrong."

"No, you weren't" He looked at me, but I smiled "Not about Matt, you were very definitely wrong about Matt. But, you're right about holding on tight to something special. I know why you said it. We don't need to talk about it. He's gone."

The words felt wrong. I couldn't believe that Matt was gone. I guess it would be more accurate to say that I couldn't accept it. Either way, Frank wasn't pushing, and I really did appreciate the gesture. I told him about Tom and Garonne, how life had been without Matt and Foggy, about the nightmares. A look passed quickly over his face. It was concern, but he didn't push the matter. While we ate, I opened up, and months of frustration, sadness, fear, contempt, everything just fell out. It was unguarded, real, and it felt good.

"I left the flowers out." I murmured, looking at an empty plate on the table.

"I'm sorry I didn't...reach out sooner. I've been dealing with some shit, you know."

"No, of course, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I just worried...and it's possible that I might have missed you a little."

"Picked a hell of a person to worry about." He laughed and it caused me to roll my eyes. "But, Karen, you need to watch out with this story. Something isn't right, and you're good a pissing off the wrong people." With this, he stood up and mumbled something. He disappeared. I waited, but when he didn't return, I flagged a waitress. She let me know that the meal had been paid for. I thanked her and left.

I felt good. Better than I had in a long time. Instead of home, I walked the path to the hospital, hoping to charm my way into their records. Maybe Tom had a dad somewhere. It was possible, and maybe he'd give a shit what happened to him.

I was definitely not supposed to be there. I had snagged the keys off of the night guards desk while he was distracted by a disoriented old lady. He had been watching football highlights before that so I figured he wouldn't miss them for a while.

I had to guess at Tom's age, and hoped that Tom wasn't a middle name. The hospital had kept old files per decade. I looked at children born in the 90's with the last name Sullivan. No dice. I sighed heavily. Maybe he wasn't born here. I put everything back together, and slid them back into their file cabinets. I handed the guard his keys, telling him that I had found them on the hallway floor and that I thought he might have dropped them. He thanked me several times before pocketing them. I was definitely going to hell.

My next stop was the Bulletin. The office was empty, but I knew my way around. I found myself in the old files, searching. I didn't know what I was searching for until it landed on my lap.

Young woman assaulted in the park, found unconscious by Honorable Judge James Garonne, suspect still at large.

Fuck. It was Tawny Sullivan. I copied the article and placed it in my ever-expanding folder. I was holding so many pieces, but none of it equaled any kind of bigger picture. No birth information. So, there either wasn't any information or that record had disappeared. I was determined to talk to the Butcher that Tom had worked for, see if he had any information on him. I left the office and was enveloped by darkness. The surrounding streetlights were dark. I immediately felt uneasy, and placed my hand inside my purse, ready for whatever happened next.

Except I wasn't.