Chapter 10:
Nick made his way to the hospital early in the morning before heading to work, wanting to check in on Juliette. As he entered her room, he saw that she was awake, sitting up in bed, while the doctor was speaking to her. The doctor turned as Nick approached, greeting him with a nod.
"Detective Burkhardt," the doctor said, his tone professional yet warm. "I was just going over some things with Juliette."
Nick's concern was evident as he asked, "Is everything alright?"
The doctor offered a reassuring smile. "Physically, she's as healthy as can be. The MRI results on her brain came back normal. The memory loss seems to be due to shock, which isn't uncommon in cases like this. It's important to be patient with it—memories may come back slowly over time. You can take her home later today, but I'm waiting on one more result before I can fully discharge her."
Nick nodded, a mix of relief and lingering worry washing over him. "Thank you, Doctor."
With that, the doctor excused himself, leaving Nick alone with Juliette. He approached her cautiously, remembering how she had been uncomfortable with his presence the day before. He didn't want to overwhelm her, so he kept his distance, offering her the space she seemed to need.
"How are you feeling?" Nick asked gently, his voice careful not to betray the depth of his concern.
Juliette smiled politely, though there was a hint of frustration in her eyes. "I feel much better physically," she said. "But there's still a fog every time I try to remember… you." She hesitated before continuing, her voice soft. "I saw photos on my phone, read some of our messages, but whenever I try to focus on them, I get a headache."
Nick's heart ached at her words, but he managed a gentle smile. "Thank you for trying, Juliette. But there's no pressure. For now, all you need to do is rest. I have some friends who are helping me find a way to help you remember, so just take it easy."
Juliette nodded, her smile more genuine this time, appreciative of his understanding. "Thank you, Nick."
They chatted for a bit, the conversation light and easy, despite the undercurrent of tension from the situation. Nick could see that Juliette was trying, but he also knew that pushing too hard could do more harm than good. Eventually, it was time for him to leave for work. He bid her goodbye with a reassuring smile, promising to check in on her later.
As he left the hospital and made his way to his car, Nick's thoughts drifted to Adalind. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't shake the worry that had settled in his chest. What he had witnessed—the raw pain and betrayal Adalind had experienced—had opened his eyes to the kind of life she had lived, one that was void of the love she had so desperately craved. Nick already trusted Adalind to have his back, but after last night, he felt an even deeper connection to her, and to the others, as they had all faced something that brought them closer together.
Once he was in his car, Nick dialled Rosalee's number, his fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel as he waited for her to pick up. When she did, her voice was calm and warm.
"Nick, good morning," Rosalee greeted him.
"Good morning, Rosalee. How's everything? How's Adalind doing?" Nick asked, the concern in his voice unmistakable.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Rosalee answered. "I think Adalind is deeply affected, but she's doing much better than I expected. We stayed up late talking, and she's still asleep right now."
Nick let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding. "I'm glad she's getting some rest."
Rosalee continued, her tone thoughtful. "She mentioned that she still wants to go to work today, to keep things normal in case the police come questioning once her mother's body is found. I'll stay with her until she leaves for work, and I'll keep an eye on her."
Nick felt a wave of gratitude toward Rosalee. "Thank you, Rosalee. I really appreciate you being there for her. It means a lot."
"Of course, Nick. We're all in this together," Rosalee replied, her voice filled with sincerity.
Nick ended the call, feeling a bit more at ease knowing that Adalind had the support she needed. As he started the car and drove toward the precinct, he couldn't help but think about how much had changed in such a short time. The bonds between them had deepened, forged in the fires of the battles they faced together. And as much as he worried about what was to come, Nick knew they were stronger for it.
Nick arrived at the precinct, his thoughts still lingering on the morning's events. As he walked through the familiar halls, he was greeted by Hank, who was waiting for him near their desks.
"Hey, Nick," Hank said, his tone serious. "There are a couple of FBI agents here. They want to question you about the deaths of their agents."
Nick's stomach tightened at the reminder of what had happened. He had been too late to save Agent Michaels, and the gruesome deaths of the two federal agents at the hands of Henri Marnassier, the Reaper, weighed heavily on him. He had barely managed to survive the encounter himself, and explaining the events without revealing the truth about Wesen was always a challenge.
"Alright," Nick replied, steeling himself for the interrogation. "Where are they?"
Hank gestured toward an interrogation room down the hall. "In there. I'll be here if you need anything."
Nick nodded and made his way to the room, his mind racing as he prepared to answer their questions. He entered the room to find two FBI agents waiting for him—Agent Rebecca Harris, a stern-looking woman with sharp eyes, and Agent Michael Trent, a tall man with a calm demeanour. They both stood as he entered.
"Detective Burkhardt," Agent Harris began, her tone professional but with an edge. "Thank you for meeting with us."
"Of course," Nick replied, taking a seat across from them.
Agent Trent spoke next, his voice measured. "We understand that you were the first on the scene when Agents Michaels and Jacobs were killed. We need to go over what happened."
Nick nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "I'll tell you what I can."
Agent Harris leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. "Why didn't you call for backup before going in? Or take your partner with you? That's not standard procedure, Detective."
Nick had anticipated this question. "Agent Michaels sounded frantic when she called. I didn't want to waste any time. My partner, Hank, was chasing a lead at the time, and I didn't want to wait for backup. I just… I thought I could get there in time to help her."
Agent Trent's expression softened slightly, but Agent Harris remained sceptical. "You understand how risky that was. You were walking into an unknown situation."
Nick nodded. "I know. In hindsight, I should have called for backup. But in that moment, my priority was to get to Agent Michaels as quickly as possible."
The agents exchanged a glance before Agent Harris continued. "When you arrived, you said they were already dead?"
"Yes," Nick replied, keeping his tone steady. "By the time I got there, both agents were already dead. I found Marnassier there. He attacked me, and I tried to shoot him, but I missed. We ended up in close combat, and I managed to stab him in the neck. That's how he died."
Agent Trent frowned slightly, as if trying to piece together the scenario. "And you're sure there was no one else involved? No other suspects?"
Nick shook his head. "No one else. Just Marnassier."
The agents asked a few more probing questions, but Nick remained firm in his answers, careful not to reveal anything that would suggest the involvement of Wesen. Eventually, the agents seemed to realise they weren't going to get any more concrete information out of him.
"Thank you for your cooperation, Detective Burkhardt," Agent Harris said, her tone cool but respectful. "We'll be in touch if we need anything further."
Nick nodded, standing up to leave. "I'll be here if you do."
As he left the room and made his way back to his desk, he felt a slight tension ease from his shoulders. The questioning had gone as well as he could have hoped, though the weight of what had happened still lingered.
Hank was waiting for him when he returned. "Everything alright?" Hank asked, concern etched in his features.
Nick was about to respond when Sgt. Wu approached their desks, a file in hand. "New case," Wu said, handing the file to Nick. "Woman found dead in her home. Looks like someone broke in while she was there, and there was a struggle."
Nick took the file, his eyes scanning the details. His stomach dropped when he saw the address: Catherine Schade's house. He could feel a chill run down his spine, but he forced himself to stay composed. He couldn't let on that this case was anything more than routine.
"Any leads so far?" Nick asked, keeping his voice steady as he handed the file to Hank, not letting his emotions show. "Any surveillance cameras nearby?"
Wu shook his head. "The house didn't have any security cameras, and the block of land Catherine owned is pretty secluded. Initial canvassing revealed that the community there likes to keep mostly to themselves—nobody's come forward with any useful information."
Nick nodded, processing the information. "What about family? Anyone close by?"
Wu hesitated for a moment before answering. "The daughter lives in town. Adalind Schade. She was a person of interest in one of our cases a while back."
At the mention of Adalind's name, Hank frowned, his expression darkening. "Adalind?… targeted before, and now this?"
Nick kept his expression neutral, even as his mind raced. "Has she been notified yet?" he asked, keeping his voice as casual as possible.
"Not yet," Wu replied. "I was about to send some officers her way to notify her and ask questions."
Nick quickly interjected, "Hank and I can handle that after we visit the scene."
Wu nodded, seeming relieved. "Alright. I'll leave it to you two."
As Wu walked off, Nick and Hank prepared to head out to the crime scene. Hank couldn't help but shake his head, his voice tinged with sympathy. "Adalind must be going through hell. Targeted before, and now her mother dies in a breaking and entering. That's rough."
Nick didn't respond immediately, his thoughts focused on how he was going to navigate this investigation. "Yeah," he finally said, his voice quiet. "It's rough."
With that, they grabbed their gear and headed out, Nick doing everything he could to keep his emotions in check. The stakes were higher than ever, and Nick knew he had to be careful—very careful—to make sure no one discovered his involvement in Catherine's death.
As Nick and Hank arrived at Catherine Schade's house, they were met with the familiar sight of a crime scene in full swing. The forensics team was busy taking photos of every inch of the place, while the coroner was crouched beside Catherine's lifeless body, making notes and checking for preliminary signs of foul play.
They approached the coroner, a seasoned professional named Dr. Emily Lawson, who had seen more than her share of violent deaths. Hank, always the one to get straight to the point, asked, "What do you have for us, Dr. Lawson?"
Dr. Lawson looked up, her expression serious as she relayed her findings. "Time of death was sometime last night. I can give you a more exact time once I've completed the autopsy, but my initial findings suggest that a stab wound to the neck severed an artery. She likely bled out within seconds."
Nick and Hank exchanged a glance. Hank nodded for Dr. Lawson to continue.
"I couldn't find any other wounds on the body," Dr. Lawson added, "and her fingernails are clean—no skin or blood under them. It suggests she didn't have time or wasn't close enough to fight back."
Nick thanked her, though his mind was already racing with the implications. He and Hank moved through the house, checking for any signs of forced entry or other evidence. Nick approached one of the forensic techs, a young man named Ryan Perez, who was carefully dusting for prints near the entrance.
"Anything of importance?" Nick asked, his tone calm and professional.
Perez glanced up, shaking his head slightly. "We're dusting for prints, but so far, the only ones we've been able to identify belong to Catherine Schade. No unknowns, no partials—nothing. It's almost like whoever did this was a ghost."
Nick felt a wave of relief wash over him. No prints meant no immediate connection to him, Adalind, or Kelly. But he kept his expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away.
"What about footprints or other trace evidence?" Nick continued, his voice steady.
Perez sighed in frustration. "Nothing. No footprints, no fibres, no hair—nothing we can use. It's like the place was wiped clean before we even got here."
Nick nodded, keeping his tone neutral. "Thanks, keep me posted if anything changes."
Just then, Nick noticed a commotion at the entrance as Sean Renard arrived on the scene, his face a mask of shock and concern. His movements were uncharacteristically frantic as he made his way over to Nick and Hank.
"What happened?" Sean demanded, his voice edged with urgency.
Hank, always observant, asked, "Did you know Catherine Schade personally, Captain?"
Sean hesitated for a split second before replying, "She was a family friend." The answer was smooth, but Hank caught the briefest flicker of something in Sean's eyes—something that didn't sit right with him. Hank frowned slightly, remembering how Sean had never given any indication of knowing Adalind well when he had asked about dating her.
Nick, for his part, kept his own expression as neutral as possible. He needed to play this off like just another case. "From what we can tell so far," Nick explained calmly, "it looks like a break-in while Catherine Schade was home. There are signs of a struggle, but Dr. Lawson tells us there are no other injuries on the body, and her fingernails didn't have any DNA from the attacker."
Dr. Lawson, who had joined them by this point, nodded in agreement. "I'll be looking for any other type of DNA on her clothes, but honestly, I wouldn't hold out much hope. Her clothes are clean, too clean."
Sean's face twisted with anger and disappointment, emotions that seemed genuine, but also mixed with something else. "Keep me in the loop as you find out more," he said, his tone demanding.
Nick nodded. "We will, Captain."
Sean then asked, almost too casually, "Has Adalind been notified?"
Hank's frown deepened at the question, his suspicion towards Sean growing. Something wasn't adding up. "Not yet," Nick responded quickly. "We're on our way to notify her now and ask her some questions."
There was a moment of silence as Sean seemed to notice the look on Hank's face—an unspoken suspicion directed squarely at him. For a brief moment, Sean considered going to Adalind himself, to ask her his own questions, to see what she knew. But he realised that doing so might draw too much attention to himself, especially during an ongoing investigation.
Instead, Sean simply nodded. "Alright. Keep me informed." He turned away, his gaze landing on the forensic team, who were meticulously bagging evidence from all over the house. Despite his outward calm, Sean couldn't help but worry about the traces he might have left behind during his visits to Catherine. He knew the importance of staying composed, but the stakes were higher than ever, and one misstep could unravel everything.
As Sean walked away, Nick and Hank exchanged a glance before heading back to their car. Hank couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. And Nick, while doing his best to stay composed, knew that this case was far from straightforward.
Nick and Hank made their way to Adalind's office, the atmosphere between them tense yet focused. As they entered the reception area, the woman behind the desk greeted them with a polite smile, but her expression shifted when Nick flashed his badge.
"We're here to see Adalind Schade," Nick said, his tone all business.
The receptionist's smile faltered slightly, understanding that the detectives weren't here for a casual visit. "Of course, Detective," she replied, gesturing toward Adalind's office. "You can go right in."
They walked down the short hallway and knocked on the door before opening it. Adalind looked up, surprised to see Nick and Hank. She quickly tried to compose herself, offering them a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Nick, Hank, what brings you here?" she asked, her voice carrying its usual chirp, though Nick could see the underlying tension.
Nick stepped forward, his voice gentle but professional. "Adalind, I'm afraid we have some difficult news. Your mother, Catherine Schade, was found dead at her home this morning."
Adalind's eyes widened in shock, her breath catching in her throat as the weight of the words hit her. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from falling. She brought a hand to her mouth, as if to hold back a sob, her composure barely holding together.
"What…? How…?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, the shock and pain evident in her tone.
Nick continued, careful to keep his voice steady. "We're still investigating, but it appears there was a break-in. We'll need your help with a few questions."
Adalind nodded numbly, doing her best to process the news. She looked away for a moment, trying to gather herself before facing them again. "Of course… I'll do whatever I can to help."
Nick could see the genuine pain in her eyes—this wasn't just an act. She was hurting, and despite knowing what had transpired the night before, the reality of her mother's death was still overwhelming.
"When was the last time you saw your mother?" Nick asked, needing to gather all the necessary information.
Adalind paused, her eyes flickering with a mix of emotions. "I… I hadn't seen her in weeks. The last time we met, she was disappointed in me. I've been… avoiding her, I guess. I was thinking about going to see her, but I kept putting it off because I didn't want to see that disappointed look on her face again. Now I regret it. I wish I had gone."
Hank, though focused on the case, didn't press her further on that point, sensing her genuine regret. "Adalind, where were you last night when your mother was killed?"
Adalind's eyes widened again, the hurt and offence clear on her face. "I was at home… with a friend," she replied, her voice trembling slightly.
"Who was the friend?" Hank asked, his tone gentle but firm.
Adalind hesitated, a silent question in her eyes as she looked at Nick. She hadn't asked Nick about using Rosalee as her alibi, though she had talked to Rosalee that morning, and Rosalee had agreed. Nick met her gaze with complete trust, giving her the confidence she needed.
"I was with Rosalee," Adalind said, her voice steadier. "We had a girls' night in at my apartment. we spent the night together."
Hank nodded, jotting down the information. "Thank you, Adalind. We'll need to confirm that, of course."
Nick added, "We'll keep you informed about the case. We'll also need you to come by the precinct to settle matters regarding your mother's body."
Adalind nodded, her expression still pained. "I understand."
As they turned to leave, Nick stopped Hank. "I just have a couple more questions for Adalind. I'll be out in a minute."
Hank nodded and gave Adalind a reassuring look before heading back to the car. Once he was gone, Nick moved closer to Adalind, his voice soft and filled with concern. "How are you holding up?"
Adalind tried to smile, but it was weak. "I'm fine, Nick. Rosalee's been on a mission to make sure I'm okay."
There was a brief silence between them, the weight of the morning hanging heavy in the air. Adalind's eyes, which had been cast downward, slowly lifted to meet Nick's. Her voice, when she spoke, was tinged with vulnerability that Nick had rarely seen from her.
"I don't think I've ever felt this kind of gratitude before," Adalind began, her voice trembling slightly. "For so long, I've lived my life surrounded by people who only cared about power, manipulation, and using others to get what they wanted. I… I didn't even realise how much I needed real, genuine friendships until I found them with you, Rosalee, and Monroe."
She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You've all been there for me in ways I never thought possible. You didn't just see me as a Hexenbiest or an enemy. You saw me… as a person, as someone worth caring about. And that means more to me than I can ever express."
Nick felt a surge of emotion at her words, his own heart aching for the pain and isolation she had endured for so long. He could see the walls she had built around herself beginning to crumble, revealing the true depth of her loneliness and her need for connection.
"My mother… she'd be turning in her grave if she knew I was showing this kind of weakness," Adalind continued, a humourless chuckle escaping her lips. "Especially to a Grimm. She taught me to be strong, to never show vulnerability. But now… I see that strength doesn't have to mean being alone."
She looked away for a moment, her voice breaking as she added, "But then again, I'm the one who put her in that grave."
Nick shook his head, his expression softening as he reached out to gently place a hand on her shoulder, urging her to look at him. "Adalind, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. You were defending yourself—there was no other choice. Catherine may not have loved you the way she should have, but that doesn't mean you're alone now."
His voice was firm, yet filled with compassion. "You have us—me, Rosalee, Monroe, and even my mom now. We care about you, not for what you can do, but for who you are. You don't have to carry this burden alone, and you definitely shouldn't blame yourself for what happened."
Adalind stared into Nick's eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe in the possibility of real friendship, of genuine care. The sincerity in Nick's gaze, the warmth in his touch, it all broke through the barriers she had built around her heart.
A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes, and she reached up to touch Nick's hand on her shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, Nick. I… I can't tell you how much this means to me. After everything that's happened, knowing I have you, Rosalee, and Monroe… it's the only thing keeping me together right now."
Nick's heart swelled with empathy and resolve. He knew the depth of what she had endured, and he was determined to be there for her, just as she had been there for him. "You're not alone in this, Adalind. We're all here for you, no matter what."
Adalind smiled, and this time it was genuine, the first real smile he'd seen from her that morning. Nick held her gaze for a moment longer, making sure she understood the truth of his words. Satisfied, he finally gave her a small nod, then turned to leave the office, leaving Adalind to gather herself and find strength in the knowledge that she wasn't facing this alone.
It was already early in the afternoon when Nick and Hank returned to the precinct. The weight of the day's events hung heavy between them as they walked through the familiar halls.
"I'll contact Adalind's friend to confirm her alibi," Hank said, his voice steady but carrying a note of tension. He still had reservations about the situation, but he knew it had to be done.
Nick nodded, his mind already shifting to the next task. "I'll talk to Wu about what we've got so far."
Nick made his way to the evidence locker, where Sgt. Wu was sorting through the evidence they had bagged from Catherine Schade's house. The room smelled faintly of chemicals and dust, the dim lighting casting long shadows over the rows of evidence bins.
Wu looked up as Nick entered, raising an eyebrow in greeting. "How'd it go?" he asked, his tone curious.
Nick kept his expression neutral as he replied, "Adalind said she was with a friend last night. They had a girls' night in. Hank's going to confirm the alibi."
Wu seemed to mull this over for a moment before speaking, his voice tinged with reluctance. "She was with you when you checked up on me after my surgery, wasn't she?"
Nick nodded, trying to keep his tone casual. "Yeah, she was. After we saved her life from Melissa Wincroft, she and Hank went out a few times. We even did a double date once. I ran into her when her car wouldn't start and gave her a ride home."
Nick delivered the explanation as nonchalantly as possible, hoping Wu wouldn't pick up on anything that might raise suspicion. The last thing he needed was for Wu to accidentally say something to Renard.
Wu stared at Nick for a moment, as if trying to piece together the situation. Finally, he seemed to accept the explanation, nodding slightly. "Got it."
He leaned in closer to Nick, lowering his voice. "So far, we've only found Catherine's prints at her place… and the Captain's." Wu paused, giving Nick a pointed look. "In the bedroom, if you know what I mean."
The implication was clear, and Nick had to work to keep his expression neutral. Wu was implying that their Captain, Sean Renard, had been involved in an intimate relationship with Catherine Schade.
"That's probably why the Captain burst onto the scene like he did earlier," Wu continued, his tone speculative. "I've never seen him react like that before."
Wu's eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, "Do you think the Captain's going to fully disclose his relationship with Catherine? I mean, I heard him say she was a family friend, but…"
Nick shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned even as his mind processed the information. Internally, he wasn't surprised. Adalind had already told him and the others what she had discovered about her mother's relationship with Renard.
"If he becomes a suspect, we'll need to question him further," Nick said carefully. "But from what I've heard, the Captain has a solid alibi with multiple witnesses for his whereabouts when Catherine was killed. So for now, he's not the main suspect."
Wu nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful. "Yeah, I get that. Still, something doesn't sit right about this whole thing. You think we'll get to the bottom of it?"
Nick gave a slight smile, though there was little humor in it. "We always do, Wu. We just need to keep digging."
Wu seemed to accept that and went back to sorting through the evidence, though Nick could tell he was still turning the situation over in his mind. Nick knew they were walking a fine line, and the stakes were higher than ever. Keeping the truth hidden while also pursuing justice was a delicate balance, and one misstep could unravel everything.
As Nick left the evidence locker, he couldn't shake the feeling that the situation with Renard was far from over. There were too many secrets, too many connections that could come to light if they weren't careful. But for now, he had to focus on the case and protect those he cared about—no matter the cost.
As Nick made his way back to his desk, he noticed an officer in conversation with Hank. The officer finished up just as Nick arrived. Hank turned to him, his expression thoughtful.
"What's up?" Nick asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
Hank sighed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just got off the phone with Rosalee Calvert. She confirmed that she was with Adalind since early evening yesterday. And before I left Adalind's office, I asked a few officers to check if there were any cameras around Adalind's apartment that could confirm her alibi."
Nick stiffened almost imperceptibly, a sliver of anxiety creeping up his spine. He hadn't thought that far ahead last night, and he hadn't expected Hank to look into it so quickly.
Hank continued, unaware of Nick's internal tension. "The officer reviewed the tapes from the security cameras at the apartment complex. Turns out, the file for last night was corrupted—couldn't be salvaged. But the file for this morning was fine, and it shows Rosalee's car leaving Adalind's apartment complex."
Nick felt a wave of relief wash over him. He suspected his mother might have had something to do with the corrupted footage; he doubted that either Adalind or Rosalee would have thought to interfere with the tapes. It was a close call, but for now, it seemed everything was in order.
"The files are saved in six-hour intervals," Hank explained. "The corrupted file was between 6 p.m. and midnight—the time Catherine was killed. The clip before 6 p.m. shows Adalind's car returning to the complex, and the file after midnight shows Rosalee's car already in the parking lot. It corroborates their story, but I've asked the officer to see if they can salvage the corrupted file."
Nick nodded, keeping his expression neutral, but internally, his concern deepened. He appreciated that Hank's intentions were good—he wanted to prove Adalind's innocence once and for all, and Nick knew Hank felt he owed her that after their past relationship. But the possibility of the corrupted file being salvaged worried Nick. If the footage revealed his involvement, everything could fall apart.
Hank continued, "Yeah, it's kinda weird about that corrupted file, but you know… after seeing Adalind's reaction, I gotta say, that pain looked real. Genuine. I just wanna cover all the bases, make sure we've got everything lined up. She deserves that."
Nick nodded again, his voice steady as he replied, "I get it, Hank. It's good that you're being thorough."
Before they could continue, Sean Renard walked into the precinct with a deep scowl on his face. His presence immediately commanded attention, and Nick noticed the tension in the room increase as the Captain approached them. Renard stopped in front of Nick and Hank, his expression grim.
"I want to see both of you in my office," Renard said, his voice tight.
Nick exchanged a quick glance with Hank, then nodded. "We'll be right there, Captain."
As Renard turned and headed toward his office, Nick felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach. There was no telling what Renard knew or suspected, but the Captain's mood was a clear indication that something wasn't right. Nick steeled himself, preparing for whatever was about to come as he and Hank followed Renard into his office.
As Nick and Hank made their way to Renard's office, the tension was palpable. Renard's mood was sour, his demeanor sharp as he looked at the two detectives. "Alright, what do we got on the case?" he asked, his voice clipped.
Hank started, keeping his tone professional. "We talked to Adalind. She spent the night with a friend, and so far, we've got evidence to back up her claim."
Renard raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his gaze. "A friend?"
Hank nodded. "Yeah, her name's Rosalee. I already spoke to her. She said they had a girls' night in at Adalind's apartment."
Renard's brows furrowed at this. He hadn't thought Adalind had any close friends, but with Hank confirming the alibi and evidence backing it up, he let it go, at least for the moment. "What else?"
Nick took over, keeping his tone even. "There's no DNA, no fingerprints, no shoe prints—only Catherine's prints. And… your prints were discovered in her bedroom."
Renard's eyes locked onto Nick's, the weight of his gaze heavy and intense. Nick met it head-on, his expression neutral but unyielding. "Is there something you'd like to share with us about Catherine?" Nick asked, his voice carefully measured. "We know your whereabouts were corroborated during Catherine's time of death, but if you've got any information that can help us solve the case, it'd be best to share it now."
Hank's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he turned to look at his captain, the room growing even more tense.
Renard closed his eyes for a moment, releasing a slow breath. When he opened them again, his expression was resigned. "I had relations with Catherine," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of the confession. "I wanted to keep it private. I've got an image to uphold as police captain, and there's the age gap… I didn't want to raise a scandal."
Hank frowned, his gaze narrowing as he processed the information. "So… you knew Adalind Schade then?"
Renard hesitated, just a flicker of uncertainty before he responded. "I knew of Adalind, but Catherine and I kept our involvement under wraps. We didn't let anyone know."
Nick felt a surge of anger flare inside him. He knew the truth about Renard's relationship with Catherine and Adalind, and hearing his captain lie so effortlessly drove home just how little Adalind meant to him. But Nick kept his expression neutral, though inside, his anger boiled.
"This information," Nick said, his voice steady but with an edge, "could still reach Adalind. We have to notify her of our findings."
Renard's expression stiffened at that, his jaw tightening, but he nodded curtly. "Understood."
Nick stood up straighter, ready to leave. "If that's all, Captain, we need to get back to the investigation."
Renard dismissed them with a wave of his hand, the tension still thick in the air.
As soon as they reached their desks, Hank leaned in, his voice low and filled with curiosity. "What was that? The Captain seemed off during that conversation."
Nick shrugged, keeping his tone even. "The Captain's personal life and who he sleeps with isn't really our concern. But if we do uncover something suspicious, then yeah, it becomes our job to figure out why. For now, though, we've gotta focus on the evidence we have."
Hank nodded, though he looked a bit uneasy. "Problem is, we don't got much."
Nick made his way to the hospital, the weight of the day's unsuccessful leads heavy on his shoulders. The afternoon had been spent chasing down dead ends, and now he was focused on getting Juliette home. As he entered her room, he saw that she was already dressed and ready to go, with the doctor standing nearby, discussing her discharge.
"Hey," Nick greeted them, offering a small smile. Juliette returned it politely, though there was a noticeable distance in her eyes.
The doctor turned to Nick, his tone professional but gentle. "Everything's in order. Just make sure she takes it easy for the next few days. No stress, no heavy lifting—just rest."
Nick nodded. "Got it. Thanks, Doc."
With that, Juliette and Nick made their way to settle the bill and complete the paperwork before heading out. The drive home was filled with an uncomfortable silence, neither of them sure how to bridge the gap that had formed between them. Nick's mind raced with things he could say, but nothing felt right, and Juliette seemed disinclined to start a conversation herself.
When they arrived at the house, Nick led Juliette inside, the familiarity of the surroundings seeming to offer her some comfort. But as soon as they stepped into the living room, Juliette frowned, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"I remember everything about the house," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "I know where everything is, where it's kept… but I can't recall anything about you."
Nick felt a pang of sadness at her words, the reality of the situation hitting him harder than he expected. But he kept his voice calm and reassuring. "Don't worry about that for now, Juliette. It'll take time, and you shouldn't push yourself."
He led her upstairs to their shared bedroom, the room they had built a life together in. But now, it felt different—like a stranger's room. Nick turned to her, his voice soft. "I'll sleep in the spare bedroom for now. At least until you're more comfortable."
Juliette's relief was evident, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she nodded. "Thank you, Nick."
It hurt him to see the relief on her face, a reminder that, for now, he was just a stranger to her. But he understood—he had to give her the space she needed, no matter how much it pained him.
Nick watched as Juliette settled into the room, her movements careful and deliberate. It was like she was trying to reclaim something she couldn't quite grasp. He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, wanting to say something that would make it better, but finding no words that could.
"Get some rest," he finally said, his voice gentle. "I'll be just down the hall if you need anything."
Juliette nodded, already turning away, her focus on the room rather than him. Nick stepped out, closing the door softly behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet house.
As he made his way to the spare bedroom, the weight of everything—the case, Juliette's memory loss, the strained distance between them—settled heavily on his shoulders. He had always been able to protect those he loved, but this time, the battle felt different, more personal, and he wasn't sure how to fight it.
All he could do now was take it one step at a time and hope that, in time, things would get better.
After Nick and Hank's visit, Adalind felt the weight of the morning's events pressing heavily on her. She approached her boss, Berman, to ask for the rest of the day off. The news she had received was more than she could bear to continue with her day as if nothing had happened. Berman, ever gracious and understanding, didn't hesitate to grant her request. His kindness only added to the growing sense of displacement she felt—kindness from people she barely knew, yet so little true connection.
As she made her way home, all she wanted was the solace of her bed, a place where she could let her guard down without the need for pretence. She had exerted so much effort into acting like her usual self, and since none of her colleagues had expressed any concern, she knew she had been successful. But that success only deepened her sense of isolation. Even though she had considered some of her coworkers friends, it was clear that none of them truly knew her. They were oblivious to the turmoil she had been hiding behind her forced smiles and reassurances.
Her thoughts drifted to Rosalee, the only person who had truly seen through her that morning. Adalind couldn't help but compare Rosalee to her so-called friends from work. The difference was stark—Rosalee had known her far more deeply than anyone else in her life, despite having only known each other for a short period of time. The circumstances that had brought them together, filled with danger and vulnerability, had stripped away the pretences they might have otherwise kept. It was as if Rosalee could see right through her, past the masks and walls she had built, to the broken and vulnerable person beneath. And instead of turning away or showing disdain, as her mother would have, Rosalee had offered comfort and support.
Adalind's mind drifted further back to that night when her world came crashing down, and she remembered how tightly she had been held by both Nick and Rosalee. In that moment, when everything seemed to be falling apart, she had felt the strength of their arms around her, holding her together. It had been so easy to let go and fall apart because she knew they wouldn't let her break completely. They had anchored her, giving her the space to feel her pain without fear of being judged or abandoned. That memory, of being held so tightly, brought both comfort and sorrow—a reminder of the love and support she had found in them, and the loneliness that had marked so much of her life before.
The realisation was both refreshing and painful. Refreshing, because it meant there were people who could see the real her and not judge her for it. Painful, because it highlighted just how rare that was in her life. She had been broken and weak, but instead of scorn, she had been met with kindness. It was something she wasn't used to, something she had never expected.
As Adalind lay in bed, her thoughts spiralled into the complicated emotions surrounding her mother's death. There was pain, of course—pain from the loss, from the knowledge that her mother had blamed her, and from the fact that Catherine had tried to kill her. But there was also something else, something more tangled. Her feelings were complicated, a web of emotions that she couldn't easily unravel. Emotions were like that—never straightforward, always finding a way to entangle themselves in ways that defied logic. Perhaps that was why most Hexenbiest and Zauberbiest avoided deep emotions and connections; they only complicated the quest for power.
In the afternoon, Nick called her, his voice steady but with an edge of anger that Adalind could easily recognize. He told her that Sean had asked for updates on the case and that his prints had been discovered in her mother's bedroom. As a result, Sean had reluctantly admitted to having intimate relations with Catherine. Adalind could hear the anger in Nick's voice as he spoke about Sean, and it warmed her heart that he was angry on her behalf once again.
Nick had also told her that he'd wanted to give Renard a fright by insinuating that Adalind would find out about his affair with Catherine. The thought of Renard's face contorting in anxiety and fear brought a small, humourless chuckle to Adalind's lips. She appreciated Nick's attempt to rattle Renard, but she also knew that they needed to play their cards carefully.
"It's probably best that we let on that I never knew about their affair," Adalind had told Nick over the phone. "Sean knows I won't let it slide if I do find out. We still need to stay one step ahead of him, and the longer he thinks I'm still loyal, the longer we can keep playing him."
Nick had agreed, and they ended the call, but not before she thanked him once more for everything he was doing. His support, along with that of Rosalee and Monroe, was one of the few things keeping her grounded in the chaos that had become her life.
As she prepared for the possibility of a visit from Sean, Adalind felt the familiar knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She knew that with Catherine's death, Sean would undoubtedly come to her, perhaps to gauge her reaction, perhaps to try and secure her loyalty once more. She hoped that with his potential involvement in the investigation, he would refrain from visiting her in person and opt to call instead. But she also knew she wasn't that lucky. Her life had been one of tragedy from the very beginning, and that pattern seemed unlikely to change now.
Adalind sighed, sinking deeper into the bed, trying to find some comfort in the softness of the pillows. She had been blissfully unaware of the truth for so long, living in a world where she thought she mattered to the people closest to her. But now, the truth had come crashing down, shattering the illusions she had clung to. And with that truth came the realisation that her life had never truly been her own—she had been a pawn in a game far more complex and cruel than she had ever imagined.
But now, with the friendships she had forged with Nick, Rosalee, and Monroe, she felt something she hadn't in a long time—hope. Hope that, despite everything, she could find a way to reclaim her life and make it her own. It wouldn't be easy, but with them by her side, she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone.
Sean Renard moved silently through Adalind's apartment, the keys she never knew he had allowing him to enter without a sound. Years of honing his stealth had made such entries second nature. As he stepped into the bathroom, he found Adalind at the sink, brushing her teeth, completely unaware of his presence. The scene might have seemed almost domestic if not for the weight of what had brought him here.
Catherine had been the one to suggest giving Adalind the Zaubertrank, a potion designed not to kill but to enthral, to bind her obsessively to Sean. It had been Catherine's way of ensuring Adalind's unwavering loyalty as payment for him saving her life from a Grimm years ago. But it was Sean who had to cast the spell himself, securing the ties that would keep Adalind devoted to him. The potion had subtly woven itself into Adalind's very being, ensuring that her thoughts and actions were always influenced by her obsession with him.
As Adalind finally noticed him in the mirror, the shock was evident on her face, quickly followed by the rise of her defences. Sean allowed himself a small smile. Good. She remembers the last time he visited her. Fear was useful, but loyalty, the kind the potion secured, was better.
"What are you doing in here?" she demanded, her voice steady but laced with the tension he expected.
He let the silence linger, using it as another tool in his arsenal. "Catherine is dead," he finally said, his tone flat, emotionless.
Adalind nodded, her reaction controlled. "The detectives came by earlier to tell me."
Renard stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers. While the Zaubertrank ensured her loyalty, he still maintained the appearance of concern, the pretence of their twisted relationship. "Why didn't you call me when you found out?"
Adalind met his gaze, her voice calm, though he could sense the careful control in it. "What was I supposed to tell you, Sean? You're the police captain—you'd have known before me. Besides, after our last meeting, you didn't exactly inspire confidence that I could come to you."
He watched her, though his mind was at ease. She wasn't deceiving him—she couldn't, not with the Zaubertrank coursing through her. Everything she did, every move she made, was ultimately for him, whether she fully realised it or not.
"Do you know what happened to Catherine?" he asked, his voice low, probing.
She shook her head. "I spent the night with a friend, so no, I don't know what happened."
Renard nodded, considering her words. He had already looked into this friend—Rosalee—and discovered her connection to Nick Burkhardt. It intrigued him that Rosalee, who had spent the night with Adalind, was the very same friend who had been with Nick at the hospital visiting Juliette. It almost made him suspicious, if he weren't so confident in the Zaubertrank's hold over Adalind."Yes, that friend. I looked into her, and imagine my surprise when I found out that she's also Nick's friend." Her loyalty to him was assured, and yet, it was a detail he tucked away, something to watch for in the future.
"You told me to fix my mistake with Hank," Adalind began, her tone measured. "Both you and my mother had been ignoring me since then, so I worked hard to figure out my next move. I found out who's been helping Nick, and I made friends with her. They couldn't prove who dosed Hank, so I lied my way out of it when Nick confronted me. Now I'm working on getting close to Nick as Rosalee's friend."
Renard listened, pleased with her resourcefulness. This was exactly what he expected from her—strategic thinking, driven by the obsession he had carefully ensured. He allowed his expression to soften, his hand reaching out to caress her face.
"This will take time," Adalind continued, her voice carrying just the right amount of regret. "I need to gain their trust to get close enough. Nick still regards me with animosity, but since he never had proof I was involved with what happened to Hank, he's giving me the benefit of the doubt."
He noted the sadness in her eyes, and while part of it was real—she had just lost her mother—he knew that much of it was also tied to him. She wanted his approval, his forgiveness, and he would grant it, but only as part of his ongoing control.
"I really want to make it up to you, Sean," she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "Thinking that you were angry with me has been keeping me up most nights. But since I'm trying to gain the Grimm's trust, it's probably better if I keep my distance from you for the time being."
Renard allowed himself to soften further, stepping closer. "I'm sorry about what I did to you last time," he said, his voice gentle, calculated. "I was just disappointed. But now, I'm pleased that you've found a way to get close to Nick. You will be greatly rewarded once I'm king."
He felt the tension in her body as she reached up to touch his hand, the subtle pull of the potion guiding her actions. The Zaubertrank had done its job well, keeping her firmly in his grasp.
"I feel terrible about my mother's death," Adalind said softly, her voice filled with genuine grief. "But I know she made plenty of enemies in her life. I wish she were still alive so she could see that I'm trying to make up for my mistakes."
Renard nodded, his thumb brushing her cheek. It was crucial to keep her focused, to keep her tied to him not just by the potion, but by the illusion of emotional connection. "It's alright, Adalind. I'm still here for you. You don't have to feel too sad."
He straightened, his tone shifting back to one of command. "Keep me informed about your progress, and I'll stay away for now. Be strong, Adalind. Once you have the key, we can be together again."
He watched as she forced a small smile, her eyes betraying just how much she wanted his approval. Renard felt a surge of satisfaction as he gave her a final nod and turned to leave the apartment. As he stepped out into the night, his mind was already calculating the next steps. The loss of Catherine was a setback, but with Adalind firmly under his control, he still had the tools he needed to secure his throne. For now, he would let her play her part. And when the time was right, he would take what was his.
As soon as the door closed behind Sean, Adalind hurried to engage the manual lock, her hands trembling slightly as she secured it. The cold, creeping dread of his unexpected visit still clung to her, making her feel exposed and vulnerable in her own home. She made a mental note to change her locks first thing in the morning and to reinforce her protections with spells, ensuring that not even a skeleton key—or someone like Sean—could bypass them. The thought of his stealthy intrusion, of how easily he had let himself in, sent a shiver down her spine.
Adalind shuddered at the memory of Sean's touch, bile rising in her throat as she recalled the way his hand had caressed her face. The mere thought of it made her feel nauseous. She had wanted to recoil, to slap his hand away, but she had forced herself to remain still, to bury her disgust and rage deep enough that he wouldn't see it. The audacity of that bastard, to come here after everything he'd done, after nearly choking the life out of her in his last fit of anger, and to act as though everything was fine—as though she was still his willing pawn.
How could Sean so easily accept her reasoning for befriending Rosalee, especially now that he knew about Rosalee's involvement with Nick? She had anticipated his discovery—she wasn't exactly hiding the time she'd been spending with Rosalee—and she knew Sean's network would eventually uncover the connection. But she had expected more probing, more suspicion, given how cunning and calculating Sean was. The fact that he hadn't questioned her much, that he had seemingly accepted her explanation without digging deeper, left her both worried and relieved.
She couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was off. Why was Sean so confident in her loyalty? What gave him such certainty that she was still under his control? For now, she was grateful he hadn't pressed her further, that she had managed to make an excuse to stay away from him while still keeping in touch just enough to monitor his moves. But the ease with which he had accepted her story gnawed at her, planting seeds of doubt and fear that she couldn't ignore.
Adalind finally let out a breath she'd been holding ever since Sean's visit, feeling the tension in her body start to unravel, though her mind remained alert. First thing in the morning, she would call a locksmith and make a trip to Rosalee's spice shop for the necessary ingredients to create a protective charm for her door. She knew just the right Eisbiber to contact—Bud, who, as a plumber, would undoubtedly know someone who happened to be a locksmith. She needed to ensure that her home remained a sanctuary, a place where she could feel safe.
With that decision made, she turned her thoughts to Majique. Adalind quietly made her way to the spare bedroom, where the Siamese cat had been hiding ever since she brought him home. Kneeling beside the bed, she spoke softly to him, her voice gentle and soothing, hoping to coax him out from the dark corner where he had been cowering. She knew the poor animal had been through so much under her mother's care, and she wanted to earn his trust, to help him feel safe with her.
Majique must have sensed the pain in her voice, the underlying sadness she carried with her, because he slowly began to inch closer, his wide eyes watching her every move. Adalind held her breath, not wanting to startle him, and she carefully extended her hand, stopping just a short distance from his face. Majique hesitated, then tentatively sniffed her fingers before giving them a quick, nervous lick.
Adalind's breath hitched, and for a moment, she dared to hope that he would let her touch him. But as quickly as the connection was made, Majique retreated, scurrying back to his corner. Adalind smiled gently, her voice soft and reassuring as she spoke to him. "It's okay, Majique. It's alright. We'll take this one step at a time."
She considered it progress. Even the smallest sign of trust from the cat was a victory in her eyes. She knew it would take time for Majique to feel comfortable, just as it would take time for her to rebuild the walls she needed to protect herself from Sean and the dangers that surrounded her. For now, she bid Majique goodnight and made her way to her own bed, hoping that sleep would bring some semblance of peace to her troubled mind.
As she lay in the dark, her thoughts circled back to the events of the day, to the ever-growing complexity of her life. The weight of her choices pressed down on her, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the small victories—like the tentative lick from Majique—and the hope that tomorrow would bring a new sense of control, of power over her own destiny. With that thought, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift into an uneasy sleep.
wanted this episode to tie things together and reveal the bombshell that Catherine put a leash on Adalind and handed that to Renard via a Zaubertrank. of course not the same one they used on Hank cause they don't want Adalind dead. yep I wanted something that will let Adalind be close and not b in danger from Renard so this is how I thought to go about it. I also included a snippet of Majique just cause! I think for my next one I'll focus on the reveal to Hank and some other small scene where the gang bonds over a case :)