The filing system of the Middleton Police Department had changed significantly from the few prior memories Kim had, memories of a stereotypical musty old room piled high with dented filing cabinets, boxes, and the occasional Zip-loc baggie of something that probably should have been refrigerated. The room Brick led her into was nothing of the sort. Apparently funding had come through to purchase organization skills. Or maybe a woman on the force had become sick and tired of the mess. Migraine-starting lights flickered partially blue over a nearly sterile room. The filing cabinets had been revealed to visibility, though a computer monitor now occupied a comfy spot in clear view. And some sort of cooling mechanism had been brought in: a tall case humming with electricity and filled with the traditional plastic baggies. Kim had to admit she was impressed. "It's awfully nice of the chief to let me in on this."
Brick pulled a chair out from the computer desk, stared at it, and shoved it back in before turning on the computer, his huge frame hovered over the keyboard. "You're Kim Possible. You're back from the dead."
Like she needed the reminder. Back from the dead, yes. Such a miracle. The miracle of life, in fact, and the way things changed no matter what. "He won't even let you in on the case."
Brick gave a dull laugh. "Are you going to ask what we are doing back here?"
No, Brick was not involved. She had never learned the ways of police business. Was he even supposed to be back here? "Looking at evidence? You asked my parents to come in and look at photos."
"It's called being a beaver."
Beaver? "You mean go-fer?"
He nodded, eyes not leaving the computer screen as his hand whirled the mouse about. "Yeah. One of those furry rodents out in the woods."
Good old Brick. At least he hadn't changed. At least he wasn't running off to marry… hmm… well, he had been fairly close with Bonnie. What had happened to Bonnie? Hell, why wasn't Ron marrying Bonnie? Her fingers clenched themselves into a fist, and she gritted her teeth. Look at the weird evidence case. Look at all the gross stuff in the plastic baggies.
Unfortunately the case seemed to be lacking in the particularly gross. A busted cell phone. Tubes of random bodily fluids. Yeah, somewhat on the disgusting side. Blood samples. Interesting. Had her own blood sample come from this place? Where they perhaps making Kimmie-clones from this very room? A genius could do a heck of a lot with a blood sample. Ooh, bloody clumps of hair. Black. Not Tara's. Unless Tara had dyed her hair. What would Tara Archer look as a brunette? The world would never know.
Why hadn't Ron married Tara? Why weren't Monique and, well, Brick engaged?
She stared hard at the hair sample, partially fascinated by how the blood had dried. Was this necessary to keep? Well, if it was to be of any help in solving a murder, it had to be. Sometimes painful things like that had to be kept, then put back in storage to be forgotten. Not because anyone wanted forgotten, for no one truly wants to just forget a murder.
She was nearly knocked out by her own smile. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? She stood awhile, still staring at the bloody hair, enjoying the sudden glow her heart was sending through her, before skipping off to Brick. Now that she had solved the first problem, it was back to mission mode.
After all, she was Kim Possible.
She gently touched his shoulder and peered over the screen. Folders, folders, folders. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
He nodded, the only movement in his body save for the clicking of the mouse over a folder given a random number. How could anyone remember such numbers? "This is it. Tara's."
Tara. The glow vanished as sudden realization swept over her. Wow. Tara had really been murdered. And she had received permission to investigate. She had always liked Tara. She could avenge Tara's death.
The glow returned. She truly was back in business.
Brick opened the folder to reveal, to Kim's sudden horror, jpg images of what had to be every photo of the incident.
"I can't get the real ones," Brick said apologetically. "I don't dare steal those."
Good grief. "You're not supposed to be in here, are you?"
"I'm the beaver, like you said. And it's not my fault people leave their keys in reachable places."
Oh dear. Brick Flagg dancing with the illegal. "You can't just—"
He sighed and turned his face to her with more gravity than she had ever seen in their high school career. "You wanted in, didn't you? And I knew Tara, too."
She bit her lip. There was no arguing with that. "But I have permission. You don't. I don't care if you're an officer now, if you're not supposed to be in here…"
"You sure have a lot to say for someone that just returned from the dead. Come on. Let me have a little fun."
A little fun. She bent closer to the screen, more fascinated with the grisly pictures before her than the fun samples back there. A little fun was something she had not had in a long time. "Who took these? You?"
"I wish."
The images were absolutely the most disgusting things Kim had ever seen. Clearly it was Tara, an older version of her but still recognizable. Her face was turned up to the camera, her eyes closed, thick eyelashes lining her lids like charcoal. Her mouth was calm, even peaceful. Everything was a complete denial of the mess that was her neck. Messes that were her undeniable in decapitation. Couldn't even see where the skull had been bashed in. The body and the head were a good three feet apart.
Kim's stomach churned noisily and attempted to lurch forward through her abdomen, but she gasped for breath and held that firm. Tara. Tara the cheerleader. Tara the angel. Tara who had become a nurse. A sweet little nurse. What could she have possibly done to deserve this?
Brick actually laughed, a laugh that even suggested mild amusement. How sick. "Sorry, Kim. I guess I'm a little desensitized. Just believe me that I want to figure this out as much as you. Maybe more."
What? So he could have a promotion? She shook the thought away. It was mean, bitter, and Brick did not deserve it without evidence. He wasn't Wiles. "Any reports?"
"Some people keep them in their desks. I could go through the junk over there, but…" He clicked through the files a few more times and brought up another document. "Randomness of the crime scene."
Kim scanned the list. Nothing meaning anything. Just… Tara stuff.
"The house had been cleaned over," Brick explained. "Anything the least bit suspicious or interesting… I don't understand it all because I kept out of forensics training, but…" His eyes widened with glee, and he scrolled down. "There was one thing. No one knew what to make of it, but I guess it was on her desk or something… here." He pointed to the screen and grinned up at Kim like a goofy child.
"Item," she read. "Pink post-it note reading 'Kim Possible'."
Why would Tara have her name written down after six years?
Six years.
She gasped, her mind swinging. She could work on the case later. "Thanks for everything, Brick."
"There's still…"
"There's other stuff I need to take care of."
She ran to the exit, hoping that Brick wouldn't get caught in there.
Shego was surprised at the quick e-mail reply. In the time it took to walk down to the vending machine for a Diet Coke and return, a fresh e-mail had found its way to her inbox with the tell-tale "Re:" in its subject. Rather pathetic her original subject had been an irritatingly generic "Hello" but she wasn't always creative. But it had worked and she now had a carrot for Kim Possible. She opened the e-mail and took a sip of her drink. It needed ice.
The e-mail was short and to the point. And it demanded the obvious.
How did you know I was involved with Kim's death? Why are you still around? Have you said anything to her family or Ron Stoppable?
Ooh. How delightfully paranoid.
That happened a long time ago and I'm not proud of it. It was not what I wanted to happen and I would prefer not to think about it any more.
By the way, I know exactly who you are, Shego. Like a dead puppy couldn't crack e-mail.
Very short. But it served her purpose. It was all she could do to keep from laughing and disturbing the neighbors.
But now to remember her two purposes: give Kim the information she wanted and blackmail.
She began to type her reply.
When she had Brexton back, she was going to rob a hundred toy stores. She could already hear the sirens. It made her heart feel that much better.
Monique answered on the first knock. She stood in the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, and stared at Kim with all the shock of a deer in the headlights.
She had probably forgot she was not dead, Kim thought. She allowed the smile she felt to turn on. "Hi."
"Kim!" Monique finally said with a gasp. "Oh, my! I wasn't sure… I almost thought that everything had been a dream. And then to see you…"
"Still as smooth as ever," Kim said softly. Wow, but it was great to see Monique. "Can I come in?"
Monique nodded quickly, her own smile coming forth. "Sure! I mean, yes! Of course! Of course you can come in!" She stepped out of the doorway, holding the door open like a proper hostess. "It's my own little apartment. It's not much, but then I'm on a new teacher's salary and it is not my parents' house."
It wasn't like that awful cell. There was a huge difference between a cell and an apartment. Kim slowly entered, taking her time to look around. How cool it was that Monique had an apartment. Did adults really get to do things like that? "Monique, it's totally adorable!" It felt good to say useless phrases like that. But adorable was the truth. The front room was done in various shades of red and brown. Stylish and tasteful and very Monique. Cheap, of course, but Monique had made it look good. An old couch and a hand-made slipcover.
Monique blushed as she shut the door. "Thanks. I guess anything is cute after what you've been through…" The blush deepened. "Oh, my. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
Kim shook her head, though she was surprised that she did not mind. "I know exactly what you mean! But really, even if I hadn't spent all that time in hell, this is really cute." She studied a framed sample of dried flowers. "Did you make this?"
"Mm." Monique nodded. "Yeah, it's a weird hobbie, but it really is kind of fun."
"I like it."
"I thought you would." There was a long pause followed by a pivot in voice. "Kim, I can't believe you are back!" Before Kim knew it, she had been pulled into a hug, which she was quick to return. "I missed you so much!"
Kim hoped she wouldn't start crying again. "We have so much to catch up on."
Another pause. "Yeah, we do have a lot to catch up on." Monique broke away and wiped a tear from her eye. Mascara smears came with it. "Listen, there is something…"
Here it came. Kim could only smile. The explanation was already known to her. Monique would explain it. If Ron hadn't explained it, it was only because he was, well, Ron and could not express such things.
Monique gestured at the couch. "Maybe we should sit down."
"On your adorable couch?"
A laugh. "Five bucks worth of material. Clearance at the fabric place."
It was so good to talk to another female. Maybe, once this discussion was put out of the way, they could just… gossip. "I really do like it. Who knew you were so crafty?"
Monique beamed and sat herself down on the touch. "It comes with the whole elementary thing. Did you know that Barkin is actually the principal at the place now?"
That was a surprise. One of the bigger ones, actually. "He finally has a permanent job?"
"Apparently the principal thing lets him do whatever he wants and pays him more."
"Dang."
Monique coughed and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. At least her hairstyle was more or less the same. "Ron said you two went for a walk this morning and that you ran off after he told you something."
Here it came. Kim looked down at her lap. "Yes, I did. Probably stupid of me, but you know me. I get emotional sometimes."
"Hey, girl, we all do." She giggled. "It's so wonderful to be talking to you again." Instantly the gravity returned. "So about what he told you."
"The engagement," Kim said automatically. She could deal with it, now that she realized the obvious truth of the situation.
Another deer-in-the-headlights look. "You were really upset. Your parents called up here… they were sort of freaking out."
Yeah. Really bad time to run off. But who cared? "I guess I did overreact. But you know how Ron can't—"
"Break anything gently," Monique finished with a nod. "I know, I know."
"Of course you do. You being engaged and all. And I really appreciate that."
Now Monique just looked confused.
Oh, dear. Maybe Kim should not have jumped so far ahead. Monique was probably scared. "Monique, I'm sorry. I can only imagine what this is like for you…"
"No, no." She shook her head. " You're the one that has to deal with this. We thought that Ron should tell you since he has known you longer and… everything. And—" She gave a short laugh and fiddled once more with her hair. "Well, you had known him forever, but a couple of years ago… well, you know that I have never minded Ron. But a couple of years ago I think I began to see what you saw."
Of course. That was to be expected. Kim nodded. "I'm really glad you two had each other while I was gone."
Monique's face spread into something of a dopey grin which quickly vanished. "So am I. He was a lot of help after you… supposedly died. He is great."
Kim frowned. She didn't want this to be painful for Monique. "But I'm back now. I'm not dead."
"I know. I still can't believe it."
Kim took a deep breath. It was all good. The conversation was almost finished. "I really missed everyone when I was in there. More than you will ever know. And I know that it's probably very awkward and weird and bizarre that I'm back now, but it's just as odd for me, too. But there really isn't anything we can do about that and, well, I kind of want to start seeing Ron again."
Monique blinked. "Huh?"
How more obvious could she be? Kim ran a finger over the slip-cover. "Well, he's been my best friend since forever and then he was my boyfriend and he really means a lot to me—"
"Kim."
"—And I really do appreciate you taking care of him while I was gone. I really do. I'm glad that you two had each other."
Monique stood up from the couch, mouth slightly open, worry written all over her face. "Kim, can I get you a glass of water or something?"
That would only detract from the conversation. She shook her head. "Maybe I should be talking to Ron about this, but you are my best girlfriend, Monique…" She tried to slow down. This was a bit much, her being back, but it might as well happen sooner or later. "And I thought I should talk to you first."
Monique did not sit back down, nor did she go for water. "Kim, you're upset. You have been through so much! I'm so sorry about that and I'm so glad you are okay, but you really need some rest."
Kim gave a low laugh. "You're telling me. But about you and Ron… I think it's really sweet you are engaged, but it's okay—"
"Kim, I'm not breaking this with Ron."
Kim gave another laugh, louder this time, while something inside of her plunged into her stomach. "I didn't mean…"
Monique slunk back into the couch, scooting closer to Kim so their legs touched.
Kim was surprised to see tears.
And Monique spoke again. "Kim, I was worried about this. I'm sorry. But I love Ron."
