Chapter 8:This Is Home
Jess stood in the courthouse bathroom, smoothing out the tailored suit she wore when testifying in court. The fabric was familiar, the mirror the same kind she'd stared into a hundred times before high-stakes testimony—but today was different.
She wasn't here to put away a killer. She was here to fight for a little girl's future.
Her stomach twisted with nerves. She'd never felt this unsteady before taking the stand—not when facing gang leaders, not even the time she'd testified while still recovering from the bullet wound. This wasn't about justice for a case. This was about love. About giving Lilly a chance at something safe, something real.
Don was waiting just outside. Calm, steady, her anchor. But Jess couldn't stop her hands from shaking as she reached for the paper towel and breathed deep.
This hearing was just the first step—emergency placement. Temporary. A long road still stood between them and adoption. But it was the first time anyone in a position of power would look at them and decide if they were enough.
She closed her eyes and whispered to her reflection, "You've got this."
Then she turned, lifted her chin, and walked out to face whatever came next.
Don sat on the bench just outside the judge's chambers, his hands clasped loosely in his lap. The hall was quiet, but the tension in his chest made it feel louder somehow. Any moment now, they'd be called in—a formal yet informal hearing where they'd answer questions, share their intent, and hope it would be enough to convince the court they could give Lilly a safe place to land.
He wasn't often nervous. But this wasn't just about him. It wasn't even just about Jess. It was about that little girl who had clung to a bunny and said nothing for days—who now had a chance at something better.
Beside him sat Cliff and Sherry Angell—calm, supportive, and present. Their quiet presence meant more than words.
Don looked up just as the bathroom door swung open and Jess stepped out, her expression composed but tight.
"Look who I found," Don said gently, nodding toward her dad.
Jess blinked, surprised. "What are you guys doing here?"
"You told us the date," Cliff said with a small shrug, rising to his feet. "You didn't think we wouldn't show up?"
"We're proud of you, sweetheart," Sherry added, taking her stepdaughter's hand. "We just want to be here for whatever comes."
Jess's smile was soft, touched with emotion. "Thank you," she said, voice low.
Don stood, brushing a hand gently along Jess's back. "Ready?"
Jess glanced between him and her parents. The nerves were still there, but with them around her, it didn't feel so heavy.
"Yeah," she breathed. "Let's go bring our girl home"
Judge Larkin was known for being no-nonsense—a straight shooter with little patience for anything that felt unprepared or emotionally driven without solid grounding. Jess and Don had dealt with their fair share of tough judges in criminal court, but this was different. Family court had its own rules, its own rhythm. And this time, they weren't standing up as detectives. They were standing up as potential guardians—people asking the system to trust them with a child's life.
Dana had warned them. Larkin doesn't do heartstrings. He wants facts, commitment, and proof you understand what this means.
When the courtroom aide finally opened the door, Jess felt the weight of every step as she and Don entered the judge's chambers. It was formal, but warmer than a courtroom—wood-paneled walls, a long table, and Judge Larkin seated at the head of it, reading from a case file. He looked up as they approached, glasses sliding slightly down his nose.
"Detectives Flack and Angell," he said. "Have a seat."
Jess and Don did, hands folding instinctively on the table in front of them. Dana sat to their left, offering a quiet nod of encouragement.
"I've read the file," Larkin continued, tapping a thick folder with one hand. "The child in question, Lilly Mae Clark, age three. Trauma victim. Currently in the temporary care of Child Protective Services."
He looked at both of them over the rim of his glasses.
"You're seeking emergency placement. "You are both homicide detectives that work long hours, You met this child through an active homicide investigation. Tell me—why should I even consider this?"
There was no malice in his voice. Just directness. The kind that demanded clarity.
Jess cleared her throat. Her voice didn't shake—she was used to pressure—but this wasn't her usual script.
"Because we're the ones who found her," she said. "Because we've been with her since that night. Because she trusts us."
Larkin arched an eyebrow.
Don leaned in slightly, not to interrupt, but to stand beside her—like he always did. "We know it's unconventional," he added, "but it's not impulsive. We've thought about this. We know what it takes. We know what she's been through. And we want to give her a home."
Jess nodded. "A real one. With love, and safety, and structure. Whatever happens long term—we want to be her now. While the world still feels like it's falling apart for her."
"We didn't decide to do this on a whim," Don said, his voice steady but earnest. "We've talked about it. Made a real plan for how to take care of her."
Jess nodded, picking up the thread without hesitation. "We've already begun adjusting our schedules. The long hours that come with our jobs—those can be cut back. We've talked to our supervisors. We're not trying to juggle this blindly."
She reached into her file and passed over a document. "There's a spot open at the daycare in the Crime Lab building. I spoke with the coordinator—Lilly can be enrolled as soon as needed."
"And we have a support system," Don added. "Jess's brother Chris lives in the city. He's a licensed attorney with an active background check and has three kids of his own. He's already offered to help with childcare."
"My dad and stepmom are both public servants," Jess continued. "They've also passed background checks, and they're ready to help however they can."
She paused, her voice softening slightly. "And we're not ignoring what Lilly's been through. With Dana's help and a mutual friend in the department, we've already connected with a trauma specialist who works with children. Lilly will have the care she needs to begin healing."
There was a beat of silence.
"We're responsible adults," Jess finished. "We know this won't be easy. But we're not taking this lightly—not for a second."
Judge Larkin looked down at the paperwork in front of him, his face unreadable. He tapped his pen twice, then looked up, his gaze moving slowly from Don to Jess.
"Well, Detective Angell, Detective Flack," he said at last, his voice firm but not unkind, "I'll admit—this isn't the usual situation I see in emergency placement cases. But I've read the reports, I've spoken with Ms. Powell, and I've listened carefully to what you've said here today."
He leaned back slightly in his chair. "You're both in law enforcement. You've seen firsthand what happens when the system fails children. I imagine that's part of what's brought you here."
Jess nodded, heart pounding. "Yes, Your Honor."
"I appreciate the clarity of your plan," Larkin went on. "The support network, the emotional care, the acknowledgement that this isn't just about giving a child a roof, but about giving her stability. Healing. Love."
He looked at them both again. "What I want you to understand is this: emergency placement is not the end. It's the beginning of a long process. You'll have home visits, caseworkers, follow-ups, and more paperwork than you thought possible. And at any point, the court may decide another path is in Lilly's best interest."
"We understand," Don said, quietly.
"But given the circumstances," Larkin said, signing the form in front of him with a flourish, "I am granting emergency placement to Jessica Angell and Donald Flack Jr., effective immediately. Lilly will be released into your care today."
Jess gasped softly, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Raise her well," the judge added. "This is your chance to write her story differently."
He stood, signaling the meeting was over.
Jess and Don stood too, stunned for a moment. Then Jess turned toward Don, eyes full of emotion.
"She's coming home," she whispered.
Jess held the signed paperwork in her hands like it was something sacred. She and Don had walked this path through loss, trauma, and duty—but this moment felt like a beginning.
Outside the courthouse, the city moved on like it always did—cars honking, footsteps rushing by—but for them, time had slowed. Dana stood beside the black SUV, Lilly in her arms, bundled in a little purple jacket, her bunny—Cupcake—held tight in one hand.
The second Jess approached, Lilly turned her head, her wide blue eyes lighting up. No words, just that tiny smile Jess had come to treasure.
"Hey, sweet girl," Jess said softly as she reached out. Dana gently passed Lilly over, her expression emotional but proud.
"She's yours now—at least for now," Dana said, her voice thick. "I'll be checking in, of course, but… I have a good feeling about this."
Lilly nestled into Jess without hesitation, her small arms wrapped around Jess's neck. Don stepped in beside them, brushing a hand down Lilly's back.
"We've got you, kid," he whispered.
They helped her into the back seat, strapped her in the car seat, Cupcake never leaving her lap. Jess sat in the back with her, holding her hand the whole ride. Don drove, glancing in the rearview every few seconds like he couldn't quite believe it either.
When they pulled up in front of their house, Lilly looked out the window, uncertain.
"This is home," Jess told her softly. "Your home."
They walked her inside slowly, no rush, letting her take in every hallway, every step. Jess had cleaned the guest room, made the bed with soft sheets, and filled a small shelf with books and stuffed animals. It wasn't perfect—it didn't have that lived-in feel yet—but it was safe.
And it was hers.
Lilly walked in, quiet, wide-eyed. She placed Cupcake on the bed and looked around. Then she turned back, walked over to Jess, and reached for her hand again.
Don stood in the doorway, watching them both, heart full.
Jess met his eyes and smiled.
They didn't need to say it.
She was home.