Vengeance
Chapter Three


Ten Degrees: Bar and Grill
11:29 PM
February 21st, 2011


Fin looked around the crowded table of his drunken squad mates, and raised his glass. "To Casey," he bellowed.

"HUZZAH!" everyone cried, downing the shots grasped clumsily in their hands.

Munch scooted closer to the ADA, draping an arm around her shoulder. Just give her a menacing look, he told himself. He just knew that if he looked at her the right way, she would confess everything. Because Munch knew something was up. People don't just get jobs directly after someone has their throat slit. It just doesn't happen. It's not like this was some television show where convenient plot purposes drive a characters life?

No, that was preposterous.

"You all right there, Detective?" Casey asked, shrugging the elder man off of her shoulder.

"I don't know," Munch shrugged, eyes widening. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just—"

"You wouldn't happen to be..." he leaned into her ear, "Hiding something, would you?"

Casey sighed. "You're drunk."

"That's what the government wants you to think," he nodded slowly, downing another shot.

"I think you should go home, John," Casey replied standing up, offering him her hand. "I'll drive you."

"Nice," Fin remarked, shaking his head in mock anger. "Leaving without me, already?"

"Nah, it's fine," Munch slurred. "I think I'm gonna stay back with Fin."

Casey shrugged. "Have it your way. 'Night, Detectives."

"'Night," Fin tipped off his glass to her as she wandered out of the bar. Munch kept his eyes on the fiery redhead until she came out of view. Even her walk was suspicious. He slammed down his glass on the table, head snapping towards his partner. "Whoa there, buddy," Fin cried. "Tone it down."

"Chill bro, it's water. But that's not important," Munch cried, shrugging. He leaned in conspiratorially. "She's guilty, I know it."

Fin rolled his eyes. "Guilty of what exactly? Are you sure you haven't had—"

"Greylek," he said certainly. "She killed her."

"Ugh," Fin shook his head. "Now I know you've been drinking. Casey Novak did not murder Greylek."

"You don't know that—"

Fin put up a hand to silence the elder detective. "I don't wanna hear it, all right?"

Silence.

"All right?" he snapped, this time a little louder.

Silence.

"Munch?" he cried, his voice low and deadly.

"Fifty bucks says she's guilty."


Apartment of Casey Novak
12:07 AM
February 22nd, 2011


Casey stumbled into her apartment.

Her first day back as a full-time Assistant District Attorney had been a blur. Between dealing with the constant questions of her departure from the District Attorney's office by any and everybody, and getting back into flow of her regular routine, Casey was exhausted. All she wanted to do was curl up in her bed, snuggle down into the covers, and enjoy a nice kinky romance novel.

She dropped her briefcase onto the kitchen counter, when suddenly, she stopped.

Casey spun around, heart beating a mile a minute. She glared at the Post-It! sticking to the door.

Gulping, she made her way toward it.

Watch your back, Novak.

I'm always watching.