A/N: I went over my outline for this story and refined each and every chapter. My path from this point on has never been clearer. I've always had a loose outline with pages of notes and research and photos but kept it free enough to let my imagination wander. I think this might shape to be my longest story EVER! We've got a way to go and are about to crack six digits soon. We shall see...

Between this and my other epic project, you lovelies are NOT READY for what I've got in store for 2025!

Beck entered police headquarters, finding Andre and Tori and a chunk of the staff standing yards from the closed door of the chief. Voices were running high, Helen clearly getting into a heated argument with some male voice. The long-haired detective was distracted by the milling about of some well-dressed strangers.

"What's going on?" Beck asked Andre.

"The feds have graced us with their presence," the man sighed.

"Hoo-ray..." added Tori with all of the snark.

"You are not taking my people off this one, Crowley!"

She shot daggers at the man in black, refusing to sit and choosing to stand instead. It didn't matter that he was taller, there was no way the outspoken head of the Langley Police Department was going to back down. Helen knew this was inevitable but underestimated just how much of an asshole Special Agent Paul Crowley would be.

"Chief Dubois..." the thin man with a trimmed beard reminiscent of Jonathan Frakes kept his tone firm yet condescending. "I don't think you appreciate the gravity of this investigation."

"It is not our fault that you didn't get so much as a sniff despite all of the resources and all of the people at your disposal!"

"Bellevue is in a similar boat to Langley," the man sighed. "If they were dealt with a double homicide, they would need outside help as well!"

Helen smacked her hand down on the desk, causing some muffled yelps from behind the door. She wasn't an idiot. She knew people were listening. Not much else they could do because the FBI was up in everyone's business, blocking them from doing their job. Her people are basically on the sidelines, waiting for word on who they have to report to.

"You FBI guys didn't give a damn about two dead sex workers, but when they have a potential connection to two all American girls gone missing, now it's important!"

Crowley sighed, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with a thin cloth he took out of his inside blazer pocket. After taking care of that bit of business, he returned the cloth and straightened his long black necktie.

She knew what this was about.

Agent Crowley was given the task of finding these girls and with each passing month, it looked less optimistic. The families were hesitant to concede with the decision to declare the eighteen-year-olds legally dead. Even if they were spirited away completely alive and kept elsewhere, they would have died at this point. His team were operating under the impression that this may be an Elizabeth Smart kind of scenario, or worse like those three girls in Cleveland who were kept in a basement for years.

The presence of blood was the first hint of physical evidence they have come across. Once he entered Helen's office, throwing his weight around, she got right down to business. Helen demanded that he release the girls' DNA samples that his people have pronto. They can discuss other matters but Cat needs that sent to the lab for analysis.

However, this was not a significant amount of blood. Anyone could lose enough to make a stain the size of a golf ball. However, Cat mentioned to investigators prior to leaving the crime scene that she found traces of cleaning chemicals. Hal Bircham made an attempt to cover up his misdeeds. He obviously missed an area in his haste. Somebody bled, but they didn't know how much. If Traylor's recounting of his confession was accurate, then there was a fair amount of blood at some point.

"Chief Dubois..." Crowley swallowed. "Helen?"

She folded her arms with a scowl.

"Chief is just fine...Agent!"

"I want this guy brought it and your town safe again! We may disagree with the details, but our goals happen to align."

The woman huffed with impatience. His methods of diplomacy were pretty hollow as he was clearly used to people bending to him.

"Some of us aren't in it for the glory, Crowley! I know retirement is around the corner for you and you want to finish your career strong."

"Wouldn't you?"

She was genuinely taken aback by that moment of honesty.

"Obviously, Bircham is a career criminal who has only escalated because the system allowed that to happen!"

"It's not like he was convicted of assault repeatedly and kept getting released!" he countered.

Helen Dubois was always hesitant when it came to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. To say they had a checkered past was putting it mildly. J. Edgar Hoover alone cast a shadow over the organization between opening files on civil rights leaders and protecting "informants" from criminal charges. But she would be a hypocrite if she pretended the police were any less broken.

Reform had been advocated for years, but the biggest changes come from those on the inside. And your best bet is to have someone with ethics to rise to a high rank to affect real change. She was on the fence about where Special Agent Paul Crowley fell in this instance. He was being forceful here, but some just come off that way. Was he really one of the good guys, or just here to do a job?

"Listen..." she sighed heavily. "As far as I am concerned, Andre Harris is still the lead investigator on this!"

Crowley folded his arms, looking like he wasn't willing to budge.

"However, if it comes to light that our cases are indeed linked, then we work together. There will be no toes stepped on!"

"I expect the same treatment, Chief" the agent smirked. "If your senior detective uncovers any new information, I would appreciate being kept in the loop."

The thin older man finally took a seat, Helen taking an extra moment before also sitting.

"There is another important matter that we must hammer out next," he told her, tapping the desk.

Helen interlaced her fingers and kept her hands before her.

"What is it?"

"I have problems with both detectives Vega and Oliver."

Chief Dubois raised a brow.

"What problems...exactly?"

"This is a federal matter, which means within the United States Government and Supreme Courts. I understand that Detective Oliver was not born here."

She held out her hands, revealing the proverbial nothing.

"He hailed from Vancouver, yes" she admitted. "It wasn't a secret."

"We'd really hate to muddy the waters by introducing a foreign country into these proceedings when it's a domestic case!"

Helen cleared her throat.

"First of all, if I can see it with binoculars on a clear day, then that isn't what I would call a foreign country! Second of all, Beck Oliver was formally transferred by Vancouver PD and was operating as an agent of THIS department under a work visa."

"Was Oliver looking into dual citizenship, perhaps?" he offered.

"Pardon my language, agent. But that's none of our goddamn business! His visa is current; I looked it over when he first got here myself and I have it checked on every couple of months. So, tell me..." Helen huffed. "What is your beef with Tori Vega?"

"While agents such as I operate at the federal level, any law enforcement that we allow involvement must be...local."

She scoffed.

"What's the matter, Crowley? You have beef with California? Bad experience visiting L.A.?"

"It's highly unusual, but..." he lifted an accordion file folder with a combination on it. He turned the three numbers until it unlocked and dug through its contents to take out a manila file folder. He laid it flat onto the wooden surface. "But a couple of my fellow agents wanted to warn me about Miss Vega."

Helen hesitated before opening the file folder to show a blown-up photo of Tori laughing and walking with a young woman. She didn't understand the context of this image. Rumors about Tori's...preferences...were spoken of in whispers but they were simply just that: speculation. If Tori Vega enjoyed the company of other women, that wasn't any reason to think less of her as a cop, especially in light of her recent achievements.

"I don't understand," she told him shaking her head.

"What you see is Tori Vega and Rosalinda Ruzzolini, looking very friendly leaving a Dodgers game."

She shrugged.

"Rosalinda Ruzzolini, as in the sister of Leonardo Ruzzolini, the mob boss."

Her eyes widened. David never mentioned this before.

"I've talked with agents who worked with Vega and once her name came up, like I've said, they brought this to my attention."

Helen just stared at the detective, the woman she thought she knew, in this photo taken from a long-range lens.

"For obvious reasons, we can't have someone who fraternizes with a crime family on this case!"

For the first time since this whole standoff began, the chief was speechless.

Cat was laboring over this blood sample. It had deteriorated somewhat over time, making a full profile impossible. When testing human remains, such as blood, two different DNA tests are conducted to determine identity: nuclear and mitochondrial.

Nuclear DNA is the most coveted, as it would contain evidence of both parents' genetic makeup, making certain that the victim was their child. However, a mitochondrial exam determines strictly the mother's DNA. This can be extracted safely during pregnancy for things like paternity tests. Cat was only able to get the mitochondrial kind of test, which showed one mother in particular.

Under the insistence of Special Agent Crowley upon releasing these samples, Cat was to have her findings sent to D.C. to be double-checked. Rather than getting personally offended that her abilities were being called into question, Cat relished in being accurate than satiating her own hubris.

The redhead was feeling a bit peckish and procured a strawberry yogurt with granola. She peeled back the top and dumped the loose granola, stirring it into a chunky, crunchy, pinky masterpiece. Waiting for results to come back was the most boring aspect of the job for her. That was why most days she would stagger her experiments and analysis. While one machine was spinning the blood sample, or a computer was canvasing databases around the country, she would be running physical tests or peering through the microscope on another matter.

Days like this, she was tempted to pay the precinct a visit and maybe chat up Robbie down in cybercrimes. People often write him off as an oddball, but folks did the same for her, so she gave him the benefit of the doubt. He gives off the vibe that he's a creep as a result of overcompensating in the confidence department. Underneath, he was a nervous wreck when a woman was the aggressor. Cat liked his company more when he took off the mask, so she made it a habit of keeping him off balance.

Maybe that worked too well because he had yet to accept an invitation to get some lunch.

"One day..." the redhead sighed. "I bet he's one of those guys who tries real hard in bed. I can just tell."

She imagined such a scenario with a smirk, licking a satisfied scoop of yogurt.

DING!

A fresh email came through from the labs over in Washington, D.C.

Cat jumped to her computer, almost dropping her cold treat, and checked the message.

FBI forensics confirmed what she figured out:

The blood in Hal's vehicle shared genealogy to Marlee Jacobs, making it belong to her daughter, Heather.

The scientist gasped.

"He was telling her the truth!"

"VEGA!"

The Latina yelped when her name was bellowed a second after the door burst open.

"COME IN HERE, PLEASE!"

(How they hell did she know I was out here?!)

She swallowed and entered the office, looking back at her partners before closing the door.

"Yes, chief?"

Helen looked at the young officer with a look best described as surprised disappointment.

"Can you explain this?"

Her finger was on the photograph.

Tori felt goosebumps spring up all over. It was like a ghost from the past rearing its head. Honestly, this wasn't that long ago but it felt like an eternity away. After her convalescence and getting deep into Langley, the woman in that picture looked like a Tori Vega from another life.

"I...um...I was on assignment."

"Undercover?" Helen asked.

"To a ballgame?" Crowley scoffed.

Tori shook her head, annoyed. Both at suddenly getting sandbagged like this and the arrogant man who was no doubt responsible.

"Vega..." the chief sighed. "Tori...this...this is a bad look."

"I don't know how things are done down in the LAPD, but we need better transparency for both this department and the FBI."

Tori shot Crowley a sour look. She didn't care for his flippant tone.

"That was an active investigation!" the Latina protested. "I didn't want to get my ticket pulled for singing about sensitive information."

"See, Chief Dubois?" he smirked. "See how she is getting defensive?"

"Of course I'm defensive!" Tori pointed at him. "You're basically dragging my character through the mud!"

Helen stood up, arms raised.

"OKAY, OKAY, STOP BOTH OF YOU!" She first turned to Agent Crowley. "Agent, this isn't a witch hunt! Don't bring the hammer down on my people or anyone who works with my people! That's my job." Now Helen's eyes were on Tori. "I need to have this looked into further before I can be comfortable with you representing this department."

"But..."

"I'm sorry, Tori."

The tan woman could feel her eyes beginning to sting but she suppressed it. She was not going to start in front of them. But especially not this smug asshole.

Helen's heart sank as Tori stormed out of the office, letting the door hang open.

Beck was leaning on a desk that Andre was seated at, writing in a yellow notepad. They both looked up at a despondent Tori charging through the precinct.

"Tori, what's wrong?" Andre asked.

"Nothing!" she grumbled.

"I know that's a lie!" quipped Beck. "What's up?"

She sucked in a deep breath and just left the two men behind. Andre looked back at the chief's office, where she hung in the doorway with that FBI guy standing right behind her.

Tori was so pissed it wasn't funny. She was muttering in a stream of consciousness fashion, her mouth moving as fast as her brain. The anger was so intense that it flowed like a river.

She rounded a corner and almost collided with Jade of all people.

"WHOA, VEGA!" the blonde snarled. "Watch where you're going!"

"Out of my way, West!" Tori shot back. "I'm in no mood."

The detective brushed past the medical examiner who narrowed her eyes toward the taller one's back.

"Sheesh! Who pissed in your cereal, Vega?"

Tori stopped dead in her tracks and turned around, one hand on the door to the exit.

"You should be happy, West!" she smirked. "Looks like I'll be shoving off sooner than expected, so you got what you wanted!"

And with that, she left with an effective slam of the metal door.

Jade remained in place, confused.

"Fuck did she mean by that?"

A/N: This week has been nuts, and today I was dropped some big (but not terrible) news, so please drop a review. I could use some cheering up.