The American Eagle flight from O'Hare to JFK touched down two and a half hours after take off. Trish had no idea whether Simon was going to give Kyle a heads up that Trish had gone AWOL, which she really hadn't, because Simon had given her permission to leave, taking the blame onto himself. Trish had it vaguely in mind that she would screw him later as a reward, though she wasn't sure which of them she would be rewarding more.

Sunday morning traffic was light, and Trish only had one carry-on bag with her; everything else, weapons (and Annelie Bodin) included, were now in Sharon's custody. So it was only the work of another thirty minutes that saw Trish standing in her own shower at 240 W 73rd St. #908 New York, New York and enjoying a stream of hot water delivered with excellent water pressure.

got your info, back in town, need to talk, Trish texted Jessica from her personal cell phone after she had toweled off and made breakfast, even though Trish knew that her best friend was hours away from waking up.

Trish had no idea what her next move was, but she was sure she wasn't going to wait for Kyle Richmond to make the first move. The best defense, blah, blah, blah. She wasn't going to learn anything new by accusing him of anything; she already knew what he knew, or at least what Annelie had told him. Trish, really Dakota and Jessica, had to dig it up on their own, and Kyle could have at least spared them the extra effort, though that was really Trish's fault, suspecting that there was a leak only to find out that the opposite was true.

this is why I hate working for other people, she thought, you never know if you're getting the whole picture.

She needed to talk to Jess. Then she needed to figure out what she was going to do when Kyle asked her how she found out about Ekaterina fucking Sokolova.

And now that she was back in town, she wasn't going to pass up the chance to fuck up some low life's evening.

The Lord might have rested on the seventh day, but Trish didn't have that luxury.


The yoga class was labeled Weekend Wake Up, but Rita had been awake for a while by the time she walked through the front door of Arise Yoga with ten minutes to spare before the 9:30 class began.

Sunday mornings, at least mornings such as this one that were sunny but not yet burning hot, or freezing cold, usually observed impassively while Rita walked the mile from her home to the studio, and then back again once the class had finished. Yoga was the only time that she saw her former partner Laura Murphy these days. Laura was at the 3-2 and had been for the past five years. Sunday mornings, Wednesday evenings, rare get togethers at other times.

Rita began counting as she walked down Franklin Avenue, mentally ticking off with imaginary fingers the number of people she had connected with on the job, only to have those connections fade. Don, Joe, John, Tony, Connie, Kelly, Laura. Not like it was back in the day, when it was only men. They would see each other in the bars every night. Nobody went out on maternity leave, or took a leave of absence to raise kids. John's Dad had the same partner for twenty-seven years. But even then everybody tried to leave the job in the squad room when they walked out, or in the bar as they finally headed home. They stayed in touch after somebody retired. And when one of their sons went on the job they watched out for them, like they watched out for Theo. Rita was still surprised that so many old timers didn't die from alcohol poisoning, or drunk driving, or accidentally shooting themselves. Or intentionally shooting themselves, like John's father had. They had covered it up, of course. He was cleaning his revolver when it accidentally discharged. That's what the evidence showed. And everyone had the decency not to question it.

It was only recently that Rita realized that when cops today talked about old timers they were talking about Rita, or Connie, or Laura. Andy's generation was so far in the past it was like talking about dinosaurs for youngsters like Abby or Sax.

Rita also recently realized that twenty minutes of silent contemplation while walking to yoga was not necessarily a good thing.


"Ceres was once covered in ice, enough water for a thousand generations; until Earth and Mars stripped it away for themselves," the flat screen television on the living room wall recited.

In her defense, Julia had waited until a reasonable time of the morning to start Dulcinea - season 1, episode 1 of The Expanse. But Julia's prediction that Beth would react to the familiar music and dialogue like a cat reacts to the sound of an electric can opener proved accurate, so the two women had left the couch completely unoccupied when the show began, but it didn't remain that way for long.

"You slept for seventeen hours," Julia said as she brought Beth a mug of tea with honey.

"Mmmmm," Beth said as she sipped her tea before laying back down on the couch and fixing her eyes on Thomas Jane, aka Joe Miller, on whom Beth had a major crush, "any change of a pumpkin muffin?"

"Voila," Julia said as she carried a small plate that held a brown muffin dusted with powdered sugar in and placed it next to the mug of tea, "tea, muffins, Netflix, and friends. A perfect Sunday."

"On the seventh day God saw everything that he had made, and God beheld it, and saw that it was good, and God said, right on," Caitlin said as she ate her chocolate croissant.

"What Bible did that come out of?" Julia asked.

"The New American Bible of 1965? The Gospel according to Shaft?" Caitlin asked.

"He's a constipated man..." Julia began to sing.

"Complicated! He's a complicated man. But no one understands him but his woman. Jesus," Beth said.

Julia gave Caitlin a big smile as she replied. "Oh, that actually makes sense."

"You have some weird form of dyslexia when it comes to music," Beth continued, "how long did it take you to realize that The Rolling Stones weren't singing I'll never leave your pizza burning?"

"What? I thought it was a song about friendship. You know? I'd never leave your pizza burning, I care about you too much to let that happen. I'd take it out of the oven for you. We're mates."

"Oh for fuck sake," Beth said as she ate her muffin.

Julia Pennyworth, master of distraction, Caitlin thought as she turned her eyes back towards the television and smiled.


"Thank you very much Kyle fucking Richmond," Jessica said in Trish's ear as Trish sat on her small balcony.

"I knew he never gave anything away that he didn't have to, but I still don't know why he would keep it secret." Trish answered.

Trish could hear kitchen noise, and Luke's deep voice humming something she didn't recognize.

"He's a spook, it's force of habit, keeping shit secret. Plus, he was still probably using half his brain power trying to get into her pants," Jessica said over the sounds of her chewing.

"He isn't a spy, he never has been. He's a super rich guy, the son of a super rich guy. Which is worse. He thinks he can define what the truth is by what he selectively omits or shares."

Jessica thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, when you put it like that, that is worse."

"Anyway, I have to figure out how to handle this. But thanks for your help. You, Dakota, and Luke. I'd still be in the fucking dark if it wasn't for you guys."

A slurp of coffee (Trish assumed) preceded Jessica's reply. "Maybe that would have been a good thing?"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you wouldn't be obsessing over this thing, which doesn't really have anything to do with your protection detail if everyone's being fucking honest."

"Maybe. Maybe not. At least now we know where to apply pressure to get this whole thing to stop. We know who's responsible for five dead people."

"So you know, so what? She's behind the Iron fucking Curtain. You can't get to her."

It was Trish's turn to be silent for a moment.

"Can't I?"

"Stop fucking around," Jessica said just as she received a text from Julia.

cat's out of the bag. Kyle released everything to the NYPD. Beth is better. Still on for tonight?

"Who says I'm fucking around?" Trish asked.

abso-fucking-lutely, Jessica replied.

"I do. Hey, are you busy tonight? I'm meeting friends at Luke's. I think you should meet them too. You'll like them. They're full of harebrained fucking ideas, just like you."

"I've got the thing later tonight, but I can do dinner. What time?"

"I'll let you know."

"Thanks."

"Can I run something by you?"

"Shoot."

"Remember my thing? The warehouse?"

"Yeah, the thing Kyle hired you for."

"Kyle just handed everything we found out to the NYPD."

"Really," Trish said, "I didn't think he had it in him. He didn't tell me shit about Ekaterina Sokolova. Don't think he told anyone else either."

"That's what I wanted to run by you. Don't you think the NYPD should know who killed four people in their jurisdiction? Don't you think they have a right to all the info?"

"You mean all the info, like I didn't get?"

"Yeah, like you didn't get."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I had Misty in mind."


"I'm surprised you made it, given all the shit you have on your plate right now," Laura said as she and her former partner rolled up their mats and began the post yoga practice ritual that ultimately found them standing in the parking lot next to Laura's 2021 Altima.

"Orders straight from the Chief. Rest and relax while we can. And how do you know about all the shit I have on my plate? Are you spying on me?"

"Misty told me. She's working for the Chief's office right now, remember?"

"No," Rita answered, "I forgot about that."

Laura Murphy and Mercedes Knight, known to her friends as Misty, which Rita had never been, had been partners before Misty's accident that had sent her into retirement on 100% disability, though retirement really didn't describe her current assignment as a civilian consultant for the NYPD. She and her current civilian partner Colleen had been high on the list of possible culprits when New York's finest had started receiving untraceable tips on where to collect the mixed assortment of beaten and bound scum of the city, and the merchandise, living, inanimate, or a combination of the two, that they were moving/stealing/peddling/whatever. But according to Misty the D.O.T.D. had nothing to do with those events.

"She keeps me informed on the down low, so mum's the word," Laura said.

"The word is definitely mum. Don't worry."

"When's your bash?"

"Soon. Once I've cleared my plate. Hey, are you busy tonight? Up for a three-way?"

"Are you coming on to me, sweetie?"

"You're hilarious," Rita answered as the two women exchanged smiles, "We're raiding a place tonight. It might be a big deal. Connie's gonna be there. You want in?"

"I hate to miss it, but we're going to my Mom's later, and we'll get back late."

"I understand," Rita said with a sigh.

"Jesus, you sound just like my Mother."

"You can get the details from Misty ex post facto."

"Look at you, showing off that education."

"Like I said, hilarious."


"None of us can change the things we've done. But we can all change what we do next," said a character on the 47 inch 4K television.

"A-fucking-men to that," Beth said.

how is she? Alfred Pennyworth asked his daughter.

better, Julia typed back.

good. FYI, Kyle Richmond sent Bruce a full report. He also sent it to NYPD Commissioner Sewell. No more double secret probation.

glad to hear it. Love you.

love you too. Love to Beth. And Caitlin.

"My Dad sends his love, and says we're off the hook. Kyle shared the information with Bruce, and the NYPD. Guess he won't be docking your pay for breaking the NDA."

cat's out of the bag. Kyle released everything to the NYPD. Beth is better. Still on for tonight? Julia texted Jessica.

"Wouldn't have bothered me if he had. I'm like Fred Johnson. I'm done working for the oppressor. He can do his own fucking dirty work."

abso-fucking-lutely, Jessica replied.

"You think Kyle Richmond is the oppressor?" Caitlin asked.

"He's the type. I've worked for enough men and women just like him. He can go either way, depending on which side of his king sized bed he got up on."

"You really think so?" Julia asked

"Ever ask yourself why he had Jessica looking into that facility in the first place?"

"I just thought he suspected they were up to something bad, and he wanted to find out or stop it."

"Or he already knew what they were up to, and he wanted it for himself, and I fucked up his plans when I pulled the fire alarm."

All three women became silent, each of them looking at the television again, but only one of them hearing the words that were being spoken.