Chapter 6:Not Letting Go

The morning sun had barely begun to rise, casting a soft amber glow over the city as the station slowly came to life. Even with the sky still painted in early dawn, both Jess and Don were already in.

Don was buried deep in his gang case—notes scrawled across a whiteboard, his desk cluttered with coffee cups and crime scene photos. He worked with the quiet intensity of someone trying to stop a war before it started.

Jess sat at her desk, her coffee untouched, eyes flicking to the elevator every few minutes. She wasn't working a file or reading a report. She was waiting.

Lilly was being released from the hospital this morning.

For now, the plan was to bring her to the precinct—a temporary solution until something more permanent could be arranged. Jess had personally asked Johnson and Rodriguez to handle the escort. She trusted them. They were steady, kind, and would know how to keep the little girl calm.

But still, Jess couldn't sit still. Not really.

She had one leg bouncing under the desk, and her eyes never lingered on one spot for long. Don had noticed, but said nothing—just gave her a cup of coffee when he saw her pacing, then quietly went back to his own case.

The minutes felt longer than usual this morning.

And somewhere deep in Jess's chest, something pulled tight. Something that had nothing to do with paperwork or protocol.

It was personal now.

As soon as Lilly was here—safe, settled, protected—Jess was heading out again.

She and Danny had a list. A handful of places Dale was known to frequent: corners he sold on, basements he cooked in, motels he crashed at when things got too hot. She'd also tracked down a distant cousin on his mother's side—one of the last people still in the city with a blood connection to Dale. It was a long shot, but sometimes that was all you needed.

Danny was on standby, waiting for her word. He'd backed her up a thousand times before, and he knew this one was burning under her skin. He wouldn't ask why—it was written all over her face.

Jess stood and stretched the tension from her spine. Her eyes went once more to the elevator. Still nothing.

She was ready to move. Ready to hunt.

But not until she knew Lilly was in this building and safe behind that glass door with people Jess trusted.

Not until the most important piece of this puzzle—the one who couldn't speak for herself—was back in her orbit.

The second that happened, Jessica Angell would be out the door with a badge, a gun, and a mission.

Don looked over at her and gave a subtle wink. His phone buzzed with a message from Hawkes—something breaking on their case. Time to move.

Jess glanced up from her desk just as he stood. She didn't need to ask; she could read it in his posture. He was heading out.

Their eyes met across the bullpen—just for a second.

She mouthed the words, "Be careful."

No dramatics. No lingering touch. They had a rhythm here, an unspoken understanding of how to keep their personal and professional lives in balance.

Don gave her a small nod, a quiet promise in his eyes. I will.

And then he was gone.

Not long after Don had left, the elevator dinged and Jess was on her feet before the doors fully opened.

Johnson and Rodriguez stepped out, walking slow, careful—Lilly held tight in Johnson's arms, her little face peeking out just enough to spot Jess.

She was safe.

Jess exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.

They brought her into the small break room they'd turned into a temporary haven. Someone had already dropped off a soft blanket, some juice boxes, and a few toys. It wasn't much, but it was warm, and it was quiet.

Jess made sure Lilly was comfortable, kneeling beside her as Johnson gently set her down on the couch. Lilly reached for Jess's hand without a word. Jess squeezed it once, gently.

Meka and Wilson showed up not long after. Both seasoned detectives. Both good people. Friends Jess trusted without hesitation.

"Slow week for us," Meka said, offering Jess a tired but genuine smile. "We'll check in on her, make sure she's good."

Jess nodded, grateful. "Thank you."

This was how it worked here. You took care of each other. Watched each other's backs. Protected the ones who couldn't protect themselves.

And as Jess stood and looked down at Lilly—already pulling the blanket over her small frame—she felt something shift again in her chest. Something warm. Something fierce.

She wasn't done yet.

Don had gotten back to the station about an hour ago—his case finally wrapped, the threat of a street war defused. The quiet that followed didn't feel like peace, exactly, but it was close enough.

He stretched at his desk, muscles tight and tired, then glanced across the room at Jess's empty chair. She was still out there, still hunting Dale. She'd texted him twenty minutes ago—a quick check-in, just enough to let him know she was okay.

It was all he needed.

Don stood, grabbing his empty coffee mug and heading down the hall toward the break room. For a second, he considered walking the extra block to the Starbucks, but that felt like more effort than it was worth. Coffee was coffee when you were running on fumes. Just something to keep your eyes open and your brain moving.

He slowed as he approached the break room, his steps quiet.

Through the small window in the door, he spotted her—Lilly. Curled up on the couch, tiny and still, fast asleep beneath a blanket someone had tucked around her.

Don smiled to himself. She was a sweet little thing. Tough, too. Jess had told him bits and pieces, and he could see why this one had gotten to her.

The door opened behind him and Johnson stepped out, rubbing the back of his neck. "Mind sitting with her for a few? I need a quick break. Coffee, maybe some food."

Don nodded without hesitation. "Of course."

He stepped inside quietly, careful not to wake her. The room was dim, peaceful. He took the chair across from the couch, setting his cup down on the table, and let himself exhale.

For a moment, the city outside felt far away. Just a little girl sleeping safely, and the man watching over her while the woman he loved chased down monsters.

Yeah. He could sit here for a while.

The room stayed quiet, the hum of the fluorescent light overhead the only sound. Don sat still, sipping lukewarm coffee and stealing glances at Lilly as she slept.

Then, slowly, her little body stirred beneath the blanket. Her eyes fluttered open—blue and full of something too old for someone so young. She blinked, disoriented for a second, then her gaze found Don.

He gave her a small, gentle smile. "Hey, kiddo," he said softly, setting his mug down. "You're safe. Don't worry."

She didn't say anything—just looked at him with cautious eyes. Not scared exactly, but unsure. Like she was measuring him.

Don didn't move any closer. He stayed right where he was, giving her space. "I'm Jess's friend," he offered after a beat.

Lilly nodded—barely, but it was something.

Don looked toward the door, then back at her. "She's out doing something important right now. But she'll be back. She always comes back."

Lilly's tiny fingers curled around the edge of the blanket. Her bunny, still tucked under her arm, shifted with her as she sat up slightly.

"You like bunnies?" Don asked, nodding toward the stuffed animal. "I had a dinosaur when I was your age. Named him Spike." He gave a sheepish grin. "Took him everywhere. Thought I was pretty tough… but Spike was my backup."

A ghost of a smile crossed Lilly's face, and she hugged the bunny a little tighter.

Don leaned back in the chair, letting the silence settle again.

"You're doing great, you know," he said, voice low and even. "You've been really brave."

Lilly didn't answer—but she didn't look away either. Her eyes stayed on him, watching, listening. Trust came slow, but it was starting. He could feel it.

After a while, she leaned her head back against the pillow, her voice a whisper so soft he almost missed it.

"His name is Cupcake," she said, pointing to the bunny.

Don blinked, then smiled. Not too big, not too fast—just enough.

"I like that name," he said gently. "Cupcake's a good one. Bet he's pretty brave, huh?"

Lilly gave the tiniest nod, her fingers curling around the bunny's ear. "He keeps me safe."

"Yeah," Don said, his voice lowering just a touch. "That's important. Everyone needs someone like that. Even the toughest people."

Lilly looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding something important. Then she relaxed, just a little mor-e, and laid her head back down.

Don didn't say anything else. He just stayed there, quiet and steady, sipping his now-cold coffee, making sure Cupcake and his girl were safe.

And in that moment, he felt it too—that flicker of something forming.

Maybe it wasn't just Jess that Lilly trusted.

Maybe it was both of them now.

Jess sat across the interrogation room table from Dale Mongramy, her expression unreadable. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow across the room. Dale looked tired, strung out, his right knee bouncing with nervous energy. His hoodie was stained, eyes bloodshot, fingers twitchy.

They'd found him in a rundown motel off the expressway—Danny kicked the door in while Jess covered the back. The guy hiding him had tried to play dumb, but Dale hadn't even bothered to run.

Now, here he sat. Hands cuffed in front of him. Silent.

Jess didn't speak either—not yet. She let the silence stretch.

Dale glanced up at her, fidgeting. "I asked for a lawyer."

"I know," Jess said, calm and even. "He's on his way. You're not under questioning. Just sitting with me."

She folded her hands on the table, perfectly still. She didn't need to ask anything yet. Didn't need to push. Everything they needed to charge him was already there—fingerprints, fibers, a history of violence. Emily's blood on his shirt. The murder weapon in a duffel bag under the bed.

But what Jess wanted… was the why.

"You know," she said after a long pause, "Emily tried. She was clean. For weeks. She was getting help. Staying away from you."

Dale scoffed, but didn't look up.

"She was protecting Lilly. You didn't even ask about her, by the way." Jess's voice cooled. "The daughter you left in a shed while her mother bled out on the kitchen floor."

His jaw tensed.

Jess leaned in slightly, her eyes razor-sharp. "You didn't even check. Because you didn't care. You came for money, and when she told you no, you snapped."

"I didn't—" he started, then stopped himself, biting down on the rest.

She didn't flinch. "You're not a criminal mastermind, Dale. You're sloppy. Angry. And you left enough evidence behind to put you away for life."

The door creaked open then, and the public defender stepped in with a weary sigh. "Detective Angell," he said, giving her a polite nod before settling beside Dale.

I'm Lewis," the man said calmly as he took the seat beside Dale. "I'll be your court-appointed lawyer."

Jess gave him a brief nod. She'd worked with Lewis before—he was decent, smart, and didn't play games. They usually managed to stay on opposite sides without clashing.

"So," Lewis said, glancing over the table at her, "what do we have, Detective?"

Jess didn't hesitate. She slid the folder forward, opening it with practiced precision. Crime scene photos. Forensics. Witness statements. A damning trail of evidence that painted Dale Mongramy exactly as he was—a violent man who'd left a woman to die and abandoned his daughter without a second thought.

She didn't speak at first. The images spoke for themselves.

Lewis flipped through the pages slowly. His jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his tone measured. "I'm going to advise my client not to speak any further."

"That's fine," Jess said, voice flat. "He doesn't need to. We're charging him with first-degree murder."

That landed. Dale's expression changed—his shoulders tensed, the blood drained from his face, and for a moment, it seemed like the reality of it all had finally settled in. The weight of it. Of what he'd done.

Jess saw it. And she waited.

Waited to see if he'd say her name.

Ask about Lilly.

Show any flicker of guilt. Regret. Love.

But Dale just stared at the wall, jaw clenched, silent.

Jess swallowed hard. Her hands rested on the table, but her fingers curled into fists.

She exhaled slowly. Then, calmly but deliberately, she spoke.

"It's a terrible thing you did. You should feel something. Anything." Her voice didn't rise—it didn't need to. The steel in it was enough. "I've sat across from killers, from people who've done horrific things, and even they—most of them—show some flicker of remorse. Some proof there's still a human being inside."

She leaned in slightly, eyes locking on his.

"But you?" She shook her head, bitter. "You're the worst kind. You wrote your daughter's story in blood. You murdered the only person who ever loved her unconditionally, and you left your little girl to be swallowed by the system. That's her story now. And you—her father—can't even ask if she's okay?"

Silence.

She waited a heartbeat longer, just in case something—anything—broke through that dead-eyed stare.

But there was nothing.

Jess stood, collected the file, and gave Lewis one final look. "I'm done. Officer Murphy will be booking you"

Then she walked out, each step heavy with exhaustion and fury.

She didn't need a confession. She had the truth.

And she was going to make damn sure Lilly's story didn't end the way it started.

Jess stepped out of the shower, steam still curling in the air around her as she made her way into the bedroom. The case had been one of the hardest in a long time—emotionally and physically draining in a way that clung to her bones. She dried off, pulled on a worn pair of pajamas, and all but collapsed onto the bed.

Don sat propped up against the headboard, reading, waiting. He glanced up as she sank into the mattress beside him, her body heavy with exhaustion and her mind clearly still in motion.

He had something on his mind too—something he wasn't sure how to bring up.

Earlier that day, Lilly hadn't been feeling well. Maybe just a stomach bug, but Dana had taken her back to the hospital out of caution. They were keeping her overnight. After that, the plan was to move her into a group home.

A system that was already stretched thin. Unforgiving. Overcrowded. And Jess knew exactly what that kind of place could do to a kid.

She stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.

The thought of that sweet little girl being handed over to a cold, institutional space—one staff member for a dozen scared children, no guarantee of safety, no softness, no one who truly knew her story—made Jess feel sick.

She had an idea.

One that had taken root and refused to let go. One that would change everything.

But this wasn't a choice she could make on her own.

She turned her head slightly, looking at Don. This wasn't just her life—it was his too. And if she did this, it would be something they had to take on together. They were partners in everything.

Don wrapped his arms tightly around her, letting Jess sink into his chest, his embrace quiet and steady—offering the one thing she hadn't had all week: peace.

"I met Lilly today," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "She's a sweet kid. And I've been thinking…"

He let the sentence linger in the air between them, the weight of it settling gently. "I know we said we weren't ready. That maybe this wasn't something we'd ever want. But… I think she needs a home. And I think we can give her that."

Jess pulled back slightly, sitting up to face him, eyes wide with something between shock and hope. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Don gave a nervous smile, suddenly unsure of himself in a way he rarely was. "What do you think I'm saying?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost shy.

Instead of answering, Jess wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him—deep, sure, and full of emotion she'd been holding in for days. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining.

"I've been thinking the same thing since I pulled her out of that shed," Jess said, her voice thick with emotion. "I don't know how to explain it… but I know I can't let her go."

Don nodded, his voice low. "I get it. I was with her for five minutes and… I just knew. This feels right, Jess."

She looked at him—really looked—and in his eyes, she saw everything she had been holding in. The worry, the love, the quiet certainty.

And she did know.

They sat there for a long time, wrapped in silence. But it wasn't heavy anymore. It wasn't filled with exhaustion or fear.

It was filled with something new.

Hope.

A beginning.

Possibility.