Everything stayed still and silent in the dimness of lantern lights. Empty boats bobbed up and down in the steady waters. She passed dark warehouses and factories. All the workers went home for the evening, but she spotted one or two late nighters. In the distance, she spotted a figure standing at the edge of a dock, a cigarette cloud in front of him. She'd replied to his letter with a stern warning against returning. As much as he loved Ada, coming back at the moment wasn't right. Harry told her Tommy would kill him if he stepped in Small Heath again. Nobody likes hearing their unwedded sister is pregnant. Though, she knew Freddie wouldn't heed her words.

"Is it true?" he asked right away. He turned and faced her, "Is it true what you wrote? Ada's having a baby?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It's true. News travels fast in pubs. They're saying it's yours."

"Of course it's mine," he chuckled. "Who else would it be?"

"You were gone a while, Freddie."

"Ada's not like that," he said. "She'd never do that to me."

Believing in things like love was difficult. She personally never believed it herself. It seemed ludicrous in a sense. Yes, she loved Vivian. She loved her parents. In some way, she even loved Arnold. But the idea of two people being "destined" for each other was ridiculous. Yet, seeing the certainty in Freddie's eyes, she believed in his love. "Tommy's not going to be happy you're back," she said. "I heard he warned you to stay away."

"I'm not afraid of him," he replied. "I love Ada. That child is mine and I'm not abandoning them. He can kill me if he likes. I won't leave."

"You'd have to marry her," she said. "Then Tommy can't say anything about it. He shouldn't have a say in the first place. But, men like Tommy aren't brushed off so easily."

Freddie scoffed, "He's stubborn. He's always been that way." He finished off his cigarette and flicked it into the water. "Anyways," he moved in closer, "I asked you here for more important matters."

"Such as?"

"Our little Irish friends," he answered. "I've heard some chatter since being in London. Your sympathetic friend had visitors a few nights ago. Of course, I thought it'd be one of his IRA comrades. I heard them talk about the guns for a while. The IRA plans to buy them from Tommy and send them to Liverpool. They were asking for help shipping them overseas."

"And?"

"They talked about the guns for a bit, but there wasn't much to that conversation. The visitors seemed to know a lot about the shipment and was delivering a status report on them. They were making arrangements about where they'd meet when they got them. I didn't listen at first, but then I heard them mention the murders," he said. "They said the murders have been keeping the police busy. They've been keeping you busy."

"Why would they care if I'm busy or not?"

"They think you might know something about the guns," he said.

"I don't."

Freddie gazed at her unconvinced, "You're telling you haven't figured it out yet? That Campbell is wasting his time asking you?"

She sighed defeatedly, "I do know about them. It didn't take a lot of effort, of course. Have you seen Danny while you're in London?"

He grinned, "I have. He's doing exactly what I am. He's informing what he hears to Tommy."

"I suppose faking death has some benefits," she said. "Nobody will come looking for him."

"But the IRA are looking for those guns," he told her. "They think you're helping him hide them. They'll try getting the information out of you. Trust me, you don't want them trying. People have ended up in pretty bad shape for not helping them."

Jane's thumb traced her fingernails. "That's nothing new," she then said. "Why would they think I'm in on it?"

Freddie studied her a moment. She felt him reading her. He nodded and said, "They know you know where they are. They know the Inspector's asked for your help several times," he said. "Also, the fact you and Tommy are together a lot doesn't help. They know he's the one who really hired you. They think it has to do with the guns."

"Then explain why I was asking Maguire about the murders instead of the guns?"

He scoffed, "They believe you're using the murders as a cover up."

"They do know how ridiculous they sound, right?" she said. "They must be desperate for that shipment if they're willing to involve me. Yes, I could easily slip to Campbell where the guns are, but I won't."

"Why?" he raised an eyebrow.

Jane hesitated. Perhaps the thought of Campbell's smug smile irritated her? Maybe hearing his boasts about an undeserved victory bothered her? She used every reason in the book to hide the one lingering around. "I'm not interested in them," she lied. "I like watching Campbell run around like a chicken with its head cut off. It's quite amusing."

Freddie chuckled, "Alright. Yeah, let's go with that." He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, "Just keep your eyes open, Jane. The IRA is getting desperate and you being a woman is no consequence to them."

They bid each other goodnight and parted ways. Jane wasn't concerned about the IRA. Most of them are in it for the rebellion; not the cause. She wasn't afraid of them. She'd met worse people.

LINE

Jane didn't hear or see any differences in the street the next few days. Tommy's men heard nothing unusual. The police forces didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She thought he would've struck by now. It wouldn't take long before he reached out to her. But, as she stood on a side street, nothing popped out at her. People passed by without noticing her and only their footsteps echoed down the street. In the darkness of the alleyway, nobody spotted her. She thought at first perhaps they simply didn't care for her. Yet, when she stepped out into the light she surprised a couple on their way home. It hit her then. The realization hit her right in the gut. Taking in the winding streets, she stood in the middle of a maze. Only someone who'd lived in Small Heath could navigate their way through unseen. Campbell was a cunning man that stayed in Small Heath as long as her. Of course, he wasn't as clever. He would've lost himself in the streets if he went off them far enough.

The chance of him being Copycat became less likely.

"He isn't going to show," a voice startled her from behind. Tommy lit a cigarette nearby, standing underneath a street lantern. "Your article was only printed two days. He hasn't had enough time to stew."

"He'll come out eventually," she said. "I told Moss and his men to keep a look out on their patrols. Yours are doing the same. He might not come tonight, but he will come."

"My men have been doing that since before you arrived," he said. He inhaled the end of his cigarette and exhaled. "It's nothing new." His eyes surveyed her. "Come back to the pub with me. It's freezing out here."

"Is that concern I'm hearing in your voice, Mr. Shelby?" she smirked. She hadn't forgotten his lips for a moment. She often thought about their kiss. He'd proven much gentler than he appeared. It stirred something in her she couldn't suppress.

"I just don't want the only detective on this case freezing to death," he said.

She admitted the cold bit at her cheeks. A steady stream of hot breath produced a cloud every time she spoke. He watched her, cigarette smoke passing between his lips. She looked over his sharp features and peaked cap. She saw the hint of a razor blade sewn in the seam. It didn't scare her. Nothing about his frightened her one bit. She gravitated towards him. Simply standing near him pushed away the chills. Tommy offered her a cigarette, which she took, and lit it for her. Inhaling the tobacco, she said, "Congratulations by the way. Becoming an uncle must be exciting for you."

"You heard then?"

"About Ada becoming pregnant and you chasing the father out of town? Yes, I did, "she said. "How could you do that, Tommy?" she then asked, blowing her smoke the opposite direction. "That child needs a father."

"Campbell chased him out of town, not me."

"But you're the reason he hasn't come back," she replied. She wouldn't tell him that Freddie came back not too long ago. Lord knows what would happen if Tommy or Campbell knew. She remembered the love in his eyes and frowned. "I told him about Ada."

"I figured you would," he said. "Keeping Freddie out of town was part of the deal. If Freddie Thorne stayed out of Birmingham, then he's no threat to anyone. There won't be any riots. There won't be a revolution. Freddie can't do anything when he's cooped up in a basement in London. Campbell won't hesitate to take anyone associated with him."

"Including Ada," she added.

He nodded. "I already handled Ada. If she's smart, she'll do the right thing."

Jane knew what 'the-right-thing' meant. She'd heard the term growing up. "You can't expect her to abort the child, do you? The baby is hers. It's her choice whether she-"

"-She wouldn't be doing herself any favors. Bringing a child into the world alone brings nothing but trouble."

"She wouldn't be alone. She would have the family."

"You know what they'd call her if she did have it," he said. The two of them looked at one another. Jane knew he was right. She knew many girls branded 'whores' for their unplanned pregnancies. Their children became 'bastards'. Even when they wedded, nobody looked at them the same. He gave a puff of his cigarette, and then said, "It's best to get rid of the problem before it gets worse."

"Don't be surprised when he comes back." She couldn't tell him.

Tommy stared at her, "Did he tell you he was?"

"No," she said. "But I'm sure once he hears Ada is pregnant, he'll come running back."

"If he knows what's best, he'll stay away instead," Tommy said. He shortened the space between them, "Now, let's go back to the pub. I'll buy you a drink."

Her eyes glimpsed his lips. She wanted to kiss him. They'd snuff out the bitter cold in a second. She'd never wanted anything so badly. She didn't want just his lips or tongue. She wanted his closeness. She wanted his comfort. He cradled her jaw, the smooth glove chilling her cheek. Staring into his eyes, she knew he wanted the same. "Would there be any point in telling you my true purpose here tonight?" he asked.

She giggled, "No, there wouldn't be."

Her back pressed into the wall. Their bodies became one and suddenly she became breathless. Her hands rested on his shoulders while his rounded her waist. The cold couldn't touch her now. His lips caressed her easily, making her melt right in his arms. Jane never experienced a kiss like this. She'd kissed all kinds of men. She'd had good ones and bad ones. Yet, none of them created butterflies or sparks. They'd been for pure lust. This wasn't lust. This was something else. She could feel it in every touch and peck he gave her. It sent sparks to her brain and butterflies in her stomach.

"HELP ME! SOMEBODY PLEASE!"

The couple broke away at once. Jane listened for the screams, moving eastward towards a wooden fence. Her heart skipped beats. The cold air dried up her throat. She could already imagine Him. The thought of him taking another propelled her towards the sounds. She rifled through her handbag for the revolver. She would get him now. He couldn't get away. She heard the screams cut short just as she reached a courtyard between four buildings.

There he was. Large, wearing a dark coat, he stuffed his instruments into a bag. The opening fence door alarmed him. He was going to run. Jane lifted the gun and said, "Stop right there!"

Hiding his face beneath a cap, Copycat rushed away for an alleyway. She and Tommy fired rounds at him. Yet, he dodged them with ease. She might as well have shot a shadow. In his wake, he left a young girl.

"I'll get him," Tommy said, "You stay here with her."

There wasn't any time for argument. He took off after Copycat while she removed her scarf. The girl still kicked and gurgled. He'd only slashed her once. This, sadly, did not stop the immense blood flow down her neck. Jane tied her scarf around the wound. Her hands shook seeing the girl's face become paler by the second. She couldn't control her rapid breathing. Wide eyes searched for life within this woman.

"Someone help!" she screamed up to the buildings. "Somebody go get help!"

People started opening their windows and gasping at the sight. A man came out from his house and told her he'd sent his son for help. Nobody moved towards them. They all stood in shock as the girl struggled for life. She clutched Jane's arm and tried speaking.

"Don't speak," Jane said, "That'll only make things worse. Stay still and we'll wait for help, okay? You'll be alright, love. You'll be okay. Help will come and you'll be okay." Believing her words was difficult. She knew better than anyone that wasn't true. She kept a hold on the scarf, the blood staining her palms. The heavy scent of iron and lead touched her nose. The girl's coughs and sputters filled her ears. There was nothing she could do for her. Jane never felt so helpless. "This isn't your fault, okay? This is mine. This is my fault. I-I-You're here because of me. I'm going to get you help and you'll be okay. You have to be okay."

Ambulance sirens blared throughout the streets. She looked up to see ambulance men running towards them with a stretcher. One of the ushered Jane away from the girl as they lifted her onto the stretcher. People watched the scene in horror. Policemen entered the courtyard and formed a perimeter. The men carted the girl away quickly. Watching the ambulance drive off, Jane already felt their eyes on her. She could feel the accusations burning into her skin. She didn't object. She didn't try proving innocence or defending herself. She provoked this incident. Yes, Copycat would've struck again, but she'd been so sure she'd catch him in time. She was wrong. Looking to the cobbled ground, a shiny object stood out in the mud and dirt. She wiped the mud off it and discovered a penny. She grasped it tightly in her hand. A pang of anger hit Jane's chest. This game of cat-and-mouse was becoming tiresome.

Jane put the penny in her pocket and walked away. Their eyes followed her out of the courtyard and she didn't blame them. She should visit the hospital.