Chapter Text
“Do you want me to… give you a ride home?”
“No need. Genny’s on her way. She’ll only be a few minutes.”
“Genny? How does she even know you’re getting discharged?”
“Sixth sense. All siblings have it. She can read my mind as long as we’re both in California.” Tim let himself smile at Lucy’s mild exasperation before providing her with a proper explanation. Holding his phone up to display it, he said, “I called her to let her know and to ask her to take me home. Amazing what you can do with technology these days.”
“You called her? When? I’ve been here the whole time—I think I’d have noticed you making a call.”
“Relax. I did it when you stepped out to go to the restroom.”
“Alright, but why? I’m already here. You could have just asked me for a ride instead of dragging your sister all the way down here.”
His smile remained, but it softened a little. “You’ve done more than enough already. I think she can handle this. Besides, I need to… discuss some things with her. Brother to sister.”
Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Everything okay? Anything I need to know about?”
“I appreciate the concern, but no. It’s nothing. Just… family business.”
She wasn’t convinced, and that was evident on her face. But, regardless, she just sighed and leaned back in her chair. “Fine. But I’m keeping you company until she arrives.”
“Chen—” He cut himself off, adjusting his tone to a gentler one when he restarted his sentence. “Lucy. It’s not necessary. Really. Like you said, you’ve been here the whole time. Just go home and get some rest. In a bed.” He looked over to the window briefly. The sky was still a little dark, but the hazy dawn was being quickly overtaken by full morning sunlight. Arching an eyebrow, he brought his gaze back to Lucy. “Don’t you have a shift to get ready for soon anyway?”
“I took the day off. In case you needed anything.”
He sighed. “Lucy.”
“It’s non-negotiable. The doctors want you to rest, and I am going to make sure you rest.”
“Exactly. They said I need rest, not supervision.”
“Well, they don’t know you like I do.” The corners of her mouth curled up into a small, teasing grin as she added, “Lucky me.” She shook her head. “You won’t rest without supervision.”
“You’re not spending your whole day hovering over me. I’ll lock you out of my house if you try.”
“Oh, I know,” she assured. “But I still want to have a clear schedule. Just, you know, so there’s someone readily available in case… anything comes up. Also, don’t pretend Lopez wouldn’t give me a key. I know she has one. And you can’t lock me out because I’m going to need to swing by sometime to drop off your care package.”
“My care—” Tim scoffed, deciding not to argue with her. Instead, he opted to address a different one of her concerns. “Nothing’s going to come up,” he insisted, a light laugh punctuating his sentence. “And if it does, Genny will be there.”
“So you will have supervision, then. Thought the doctors just told you to rest.”
The sum of his response was a curt eye roll. He’d opened his mouth as if to reply verbally but was cut short by his sister knocking on the doorframe to his room, at which point he waved her in and redirected his focus. “Genny. Come in.”
At his words, Lucy quickly turned in her chair to face the door. Without even fully realizing her actions, she shot to her feet upon seeing Genny, extending a hand to her. “Hello,” she breathed through her smile.
Genny returned the smile, shaking Lucy’s hand with a quick greeting before turning her attention to her brother. “Did you get all the paperwork filled out?” she asked.
Before Tim could reply, Lucy interjected. “That’s my cue,” she said, inching towards the exit. She waved to Tim and Genny once she reached the door. Before leaving, she added a small, “I’ll, uh… see you later,” and tucked her hair behind her ear before ducking out of the room. When she was confident she was fully out of the Bradfords’ sight, she leaned her back against a wall, looked up to the ceiling, and blew out a deep exhale. She couldn’t exactly identify what it was she was feeling at the moment, but she was… feeling. There was certainly something there.
Genny’s eyes had remained locked to her brother through Lucy’s exit while his had faithfully followed Lucy until she was outside his field of vision, at which point they drew upwards to his sister and found her standing over him with her arms crossed and a knowing expression on her face. He pursed his lips. “What?” he asked, short.
“Nothing,” Genny replied, trying to hold back a grin. “You just… didn’t mention you had company.”
“Did I have to?”
“No,” Genny said, her teasing smile growing progressively harder to stifle.
He rolled his eyes. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said flatly. “And you’re wrong.”
“Am I?” she asked, now occupying the chair Lucy had stayed in. Genny looked over to the door for a moment then back to her brother. “How long was she here?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
He shook his head, but he relented nonetheless. “Since… since Tuesday evening. When she found out I got out of surgery.”
Genny’s smile broadened.
“It’s not like that.”
“She stayed by your hospital bed for two straight nights, Tim,” Genny chuckled. “It’s ‘like that.’ And even if it’s not… would it really be so bad if it were?”
“Can you at least wait until I’m in my own home to ask me these sorts of ridiculous questions?” he groused, pushing his covers off and using the IV pole beside him to pull himself into a seated position at the side of his bed.
“Fine,” Genny conceded. Redirecting their conversation, she shifted in her seat to open one of the three bags she was carrying and promptly take out a pair of jeans and a nondescript grey t-shirt, setting them both in Tim’s lap. “Speaking of your house, I stopped by on my way over to grab you a fresh change of clothes.”
He looked first to the clothes then back up to her. “Anyone ever tell you you’re the best?” he asked, moving them to his side and once again using the IV pole as support, this time to get himself to his feet.
Genny held her hands out, hovering them over him as he stood up. “You got it?” she asked. When he nodded and she was satisfied he was steadily on his feet, she leaned back in the chair again. “And I already know I’m the best. But you’re welcome to keep saying it.”
He shook his head once again, grabbing the change of clothes and the IV pole and making his way to the bathroom. Genny watched him intently.
“Might be a dumb question, but is anyone going to come and, like… take those tubes out of your arm? It’s not like they can expect you to do it yourself, right?” Genny eventually queried, raising her voice so he could hear her from the restroom.
“They already have,” he responded. “I’m just using the pole. As a support. You may find this hard to believe, but I still can’t walk quite right on account of, well, the spinal surgery.”
“You could use me for support, you know. If you’d ask.”
“Maybe.” He opened the door to the bathroom, stepping into view fully dressed. “But, on the other hand, I don’t need to ask the pole for consent.”
Her expression now shifted to unamused. “I guess some things really don’t ever change,” she mused.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Just that you’re as stubborn now as you were growing up. You ready to go?”
“Stubborn? In what way?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask a question with an answer that obvious. Are you ready to go?”
“Yes, I’m ready,” he said firmly. “Nurses gave me the all clear. Paperwork’s already filled out. Lucy made sure they got it as soon as it was done. Nothing left for us to do but… leave. Maybe if we hurry they won’t force me to use the wheelchair this time.”
“Oh, Lucy made sure, did she?”
“Come on,” he said, the irritation in his voice getting a small laugh out of his sister.
ΔΔΔ
Tamara stood at the kitchen counter, two iced coffees in front of her and her fingers drumming lightly on the surface as she watched the door and waited for Lucy to arrive. The moment she heard the key turn in the lock, she perked up and grabbed the coffees, walking around the counter to position herself directly in front of the door.
Lucy startled a bit seeing Tamara’s sudden greeting. “Hey,” she laughed a little, placing her things down before taking the coffee from Tamara’s outstretched hand. “Thanks,” she added. She brought the cup to her mouth to take a sip, but she quickly retracted, holding it back down in front of her chest to ask, “Where did you get the recipe?” Hastily, before Tamara could get in her response, Lucy added, “Do not say ClipTok.”
Tamara shrugged. “Okay. I won’t. But then you can’t ask me where I got the recipe because I won’t be able to answer.”
Lucy shook her head fondly then sighed and decided to give the coffee a taste. It was almost excruciatingly sugary, but somehow it was oddly delicious anyway. “What is in this exactly?” Lucy asked as she settled herself on the couch and took another sip, grimacing slightly at the sweetness. “And how much sugar did you use?”
“I may have overdone it,” Tamara admitted. She looked at her own coffee then back to Lucy, walking around to the other side of the sofa to assume the adjacent spot and setting her drink down on the table. “It’s supposed to taste like a cinnamon roll. But I couldn’t find regular cinnamon, so I just… substituted cinnamon sugar. And then I didn’t think to cut down the actual sugar until after I already added it.”
“Since when don’t we have cinnamon?”
“Since a couple days ago when I used the rest of it for a different recipe and forgot to put it on the grocery list.”
Lucy sighed, pulling out her phone to make a note of it.
“So,” Tamara said, angling herself to directly face Lucy and propping her elbow up on the back of the couch. “How’s Tim?”
Lucy shrugged. “Good as can be expected.” Her eyes narrowed, and she looked up from her phone to Tamara. “What do you mean ‘Tim’?”
“You know. Tim. Your boss. Who you kiss—”
“No, no—I’ll stop you right there, okay? There’s no Tim. Just Tim. Plain and simple.”
“I thought one of the requirements of undercover work was being a good liar.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, picking up her coffee and, forgetting how sweet it was, taking entirely too large of a sip. She recoiled slightly, clearing her throat after she swallowed and placing the cup back on the table. “Really. He’s good. He says the doctors told him he’ll make a full recovery. And he’s got his sister and—and—and Ashley there to help him while he’s recovering. He’s good.”
“Okay…” Tamara said with a slow nod. “So then why aren’t you at work?”
“Took the day off. For… personal reasons.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Why aren’t you at school?”
“Cancelled today. The teachers have meetings or whatever. Happens once every month.” Tamara raised her eyebrow. “What ‘personal reasons’?”
“No.”
“Lucy,” Tamara urged with a sing-song drawl to her voice, scooching closer and closer to Lucy in persistent, tiny increments. She stopped only when Lucy began talking again.
“I—fine, I took the day off in case Tim needs me to… check in on things. Help him with the healing process.”
“I thought you said his sister and his girlfriend have that covered.”
“Genny and Ashley do have it covered. But, you know. It can’t hurt for me to be available, right? He’s recovering from a surgery, and he was nearly paralyzed two days ago—you never really know what to expect with this sort of thing. He can probably use any help he can get, and I’m sure Genny and Ashley would like an extra set of hands. Besides, like… what if something comes up and I’m patrolling the streets on the other side of L.A.? I can’t just drop everything in the middle of a busy shift. This is better. Plus I’d be too distracted to do my job right anyway.”
Tamara curled her lips around her teeth.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking about it.”
Tamara giggled. “Look, it’s not my fault you make it so obvious. Just propose to the man already. Get it over with.”
Lucy playfully shoved at Tamara’s shoulder. “I told you—it’s not like that between us. He’s my boss.”
“Not anymore, though, right?”
Lucy didn’t have a response for that.
“See? One barrier down. Only one left is yourself.”
“You are far too philosophical for a teenager sometimes. You know that?”
“It’s a gift.”
“There is nothing there between Tim and me. He’s my friend, and he’s a superior officer. And besides, I mean… he’s with Ashley. I’m with Chris.”
“Those last two things sound changeable to me.”
“Yeah, well, he does not have feelings for me,” Lucy said, half-laughing. “I think he’s made that… pretty clear.”
“How’d he do that? Because it doesn’t look like it to me.”
“We almost—I invite him into my apartment after our undercover, and the next thing I know he’s teaming up with my boyfriend to send me off to Sacramento. Trust me, he’s not interested.”
“But if you thought he was interested. What would you do?”
“Nothing. Because even if he were interested, I’m definitely not. I mean, really? Tim? My former T.O.? Not a chance.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Lucy sighed, wringing her thumbs around each other. As much as she appreciated Tamara’s efforts on her behalf, she couldn’t bring herself to fully commit to the conversation. She didn’t love discussing her own drama with Tamara. As close as they were, it always felt inappropriate to have that sort of intimate dialogue with someone so many years her junior. Besides, she was meant to be Tamara’s support system; she was the adult in the relationship, after all. The problem was that, increasingly, she was beginning to feel like Tamara was the only one she could turn to for something like that. Jackson was gone. Aaron and Celina were both too new to her life to be dumping her personal issues onto like that. Nyla was far too busy and, occasionally, a bit too blunt—which was appreciated in some circumstances but decidedly unideal in others. Nolan was always too focused on finding a solution to her problems instead of just hearing them out; sometimes all Lucy wanted was a place to vent, not to problem solve. Grey would listen if she asked, but their connection always felt a bit too professional to approach him with work-irrelevant personal matters. Chris was around, but the last thing she could do was trouble him with her alleged feelings for another man. And maybe she was close with Angela, but Angela was Tim’s person. Tim was, categorically, not an option.
Tamara must have seen these thoughts coursing through Lucy’s mind because she softened herself out and said, “I get it if you don’t want to talk about it with me. But you should really be more honest with yourself.”
Lucy nodded. “I’m just… worried about him. He doesn’t handle situations like this very well. I took the day off so he’d know someone else was in his corner. That’s all.”
Tamara simply nodded and took another sip of her coffee.
ΔΔΔ
Grey hung up the phone in his office, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.
Tim had called Grey’s phone on the car ride to his house from the hospital to provide an update. “I’m able to walk again. Mostly. Out of the hospital. Doctors say medical leave for a week and then only light activity for at least another two. I have an appointment scheduled for three weeks from now to assess my fitness to return to active duty. My sister’s staying with me for the week while I’m home, and, uh, I guess Lucy’s taking the day off today just to… be safe. So everything’s covered on my end. Feel free to update the station, but do not send them over here. I’m supposed to take this week to relax—Nolan will almost definitely find a way to stress me out.”
While Grey already knew Tim’s surgery had gone well, he hadn’t truly let himself untense until that very moment. Now that he had verbal confirmation that everything was alright from a (presumably—assuming Tim wasn’t understating) reliable source, he was convinced.
Much calmer now than he was when he’d arrived at the station that morning, he left his office and promptly entered the briefing room, firmly placing his clipboard and his hands on the podium as he watched around the room in silence as his officers settled in. His eyes scanned them smoothly, only catching on the empty spaces usually occupied by Tim and Lucy.
“Anyone heard from Chen?” asked an officer, pointing half-heartedly to her typical seat. “Bit strange for her to be late, isn’t it?”
“Officer Chen is taking a personal day,” Grey replied. Noticing the tacit gossip fluttering around the room in the form of officers trading confused looks, he decided to add, “She’s fine. She’s just helping Sergeant Bradford get situated.”
“Bradford?” the same officer from earlier echoed. “How’s he doing?”
“I’ll get to that in…” He checked the clock. “Two minutes. Once the briefing starts. I know you’re all eager for updates, and I’m not in the mood to have to keep repeating myself all day.”
“Fair enough,” the officer conceded, leaning back in his chair as the seconds went by and the rest of the straggling officers filed in and took their seats.
Watching the hour hand tick over to the next number as the minute hand hit the twelve, Grey brought his gaze down from the clock to address the room. “Okay,” he started, his voice slipping naturally into an authoritative cadence. “First things first. I just got off the phone with Sergeant Bradford—he has been discharged from the hospital on medical leave. The doctors say his surgery went well, and he should be back here in one week on light duty. Once he is, I’ll be taking his place on the streets for a little while until he’s cleared to patrol again. That’s all the news I got for now. If you have any questions for him… don’t ask them. Leave the man alone.” A small round of laughter made its way through the room. He paused just long enough to let it fizzle out before picking up the files he’d brought with him and stepping around to stand in front of the podium. “Now for some special assignments,” he started, slowly approaching the row of officers directly behind the rookies. Once he stood over Nolan, he casually dropped the top file onto the table in front of him. “Nolan and Juárez, I want you working on this vandalism case. The detectives are too busy to waste their time with it, and I told them the two of you could handle it.” He arched a brow and looked directly at Nolan. “So handle it,” he said. His tone was lightly teasing, and Nolan evidently picked up on it, smiling slightly as he nodded.
“Yes, sir,” he accepted, maintaining eye contact until Grey left his side to pass out some other files, at which point he began skimming through the case in front of him, only looking up when Grey passed by as he walked through the aisle again towards the front of the room.
Once he’d gotten through the rest of his stack of files, Grey clasped his hands together and made his way back to standing behind the podium, his arms outstretched and his hands gripping the sides of it. “Any questions, comments, or concerns?”
Aaron’s gaze wandered over to Tim’s empty spot for a second. He then quickly redirected his attention to Grey, raising his hand.
“Good,” Grey said flatly, stepping back from the podium. “Dismissed.”
Aaron sighed, standing up with the rest of the officers. However, when they all left to get their gear and ready their shops for patrol, he hung back, walking up to Grey slowly. “Sir,” he said.
“Officer Thorsen.”
“Tim is—Sergeant Bradford is out.”
“I’m aware.”
“So… who am I riding with?”
Grey shrugged. “Probably with Sm—”
“I’ll take him,” came a woman’s voice from behind Aaron, who turned around as he and Grey both brought their attention to the owner and found Nyla stood in the entryway to the briefing room with one hand on her hip and one resting over her utility belt.
“You’re sure?” Grey asked, though he knew better than to question Nyla on her convictions.
“Yes, sir,” she affirmed with a pointed nod. Her eyes fell to Aaron, and the corners of her mouth curled up into a red-lipped smirk. “Just like old times, right, Boot?”
“I’m not actually a—” Aaron started.
He was interrupted by Grey. “Fine by me,” he said, chuckling soundlessly to himself as he looked back over to Aaron before leaving him and Nyla in the briefing room.
ΔΔΔ
Aaron watched with raised eyebrows as Nyla fastened her seatbelt and adjusted herself in her spot, smoothing out a few wrinkles in her uniform sleeves. Realizing the car was still not running, she drew her eyes over to him in the driver’s seat. “Something wrong, Officer Thorsen?” she asked, a little heat in the back of her question. She angled her chin upwards and crossed her arms, giving Aaron a cursory once-over before locking her eyes into his again and leaning back into her seat.
“No, ma’am,” he replied, turning on the engine. “I was just wondering why you wanted to ride with me so bad.”
“‘So bad’ makes it sound like I was begging to take you,” Nyla said, half-laughing, half-scoffing. “This isn’t for me. I’m doing you a favor.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You hear Grey back there? He’d have assigned you to Smitty until Bradford’s back on active duty if I didn’t step in.” She gave him a small, playful smile. “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, sincerely grateful despite hearing the teasing in her voice. “Like, for real.”
“Let’s go,” Nyla directed, drawing circles in the air with her hand.
“Oh. Oh, yeah, uh—on it,” Aaron said, pulling the shop from the garage and taking a left out of the police station parking lot.
The streets were feeling oddly calm as they drove about the city. Usually they would be hard-pressed not to stumble across some sort of traffic violation or petty crime. And even if they didn’t always bother to call in every little transgression, they were at least seeing some. That day, however, there was next to nothing. Peaceful neighborhoods. Well-maintained properties. Actual competent drivers. In vehicles that were up to code. Without any flags in the system.
“My friend Evie would think it’s because we’re in Libra season,” Aaron quipped, his eyes still searching around him as he drove for anything at all out of the ordinary.
“It’s Scorpio season,” Nyla corrected dryly.
“What?”
“I said it’s—”
“No, I heard what you said. I just didn’t know that you followed that sort of thing.”
“I don’t,” Nyla once again corrected. “But it’s popular with my daughter and her friends. They mapped out a whole bunch of signs and planets based on my birthday one year. Went through the entire thing and told me what all of it was supposed to say about my personality and my future and whatever like that.” She sharply looked over to Aaron. “And don’t interrupt me again,” she added before resuming her casual scan of their surroundings.
“Yes, ma’am. My bad.”
Nyla shook her head a little before quickly shifting demeanors, sitting up straighter in her seat and pointing to a corner store coming up on their left. “Slow down a little. Pull over.”
“What?” Aaron asked, trying to see if he could tell what had gotten her attention. “Why? Is there something—”
“Quickly. Before they see the shop. I don’t want to tip them off.”
“Got it,” he said, and, as instructed, he brought the car to a stop at the curb to their right, just far enough away from the corner store for them to go unnoticed. “Now will you tell me what it is we’re stopping for?” Seeing the look she gave him at the way he’d asked his question, he tacked on a short, “Please. Ma’am.”
“Lights are out—means the place is closed. So I’ll give you three guesses what a car with blacked out windows might be doin’ parked outside a closed corner store.”
Aaron slowly drew his gaze to the store. Sure enough, there was the car she’d described—dark grey with obscure windows and no license plates. “Yep. Yeah, that’s… definitely suspicious.”
“You think?”
“So I should probably call it in, then.”
“Well, they’re not gonna call it in themselves, are they?”
“No, ma’am.” He pulled out his radio, his eyes never leaving the store as he started reporting their sighting. “7-Adam—hey! Where are you going?” he called after Nyla, who was already halfway out of the shop by the time he realized her door had opened.
“Finish radioing it in,” she directed. “I’m just getting a better sightline.”
“Fine,” he agreed, now watching her more than he was watching the suspects.
There was a large hedge to Nyla’s right that she kept herself pressed to for cover as she slowly made her way a few feet closer to the corner. When she felt like she had good enough eyes on the situation, she stopped, her hands travelling to her utility belt so she would be ready to act at a moment’s notice.
Done with his report to dispatch, Aaron opened his door and walked around the shop, taking the long way so he could approach Nyla from behind. Once he was near her, he gently tapped her shoulder to alert her of his presence. “Anything happen yet?” he asked her after she’d broken her attention from the storefront to look up to him.
She shook her head and returned her focus to the corner store. “We’re too far away to get a clear look,” she told him. “I think I might have seen some movement inside the store, but there’s no way to know for sure unless we move closer.”
“Should we call for back-up?”
“I assumed you already did that. When you radioed dispatch.”
“… I did not.” He reached for his radio, but he was stopped when Nyla turned and grabbed his forearm. Perplexed, he furrowed his brow and looked up to her.
“Not yet,” she instructed. “Let me get a bit closer—see if I can get a visual inside. I’ll wave at you once I’m ready.”
“Okay…”
“When you see my signal, call for back-up and follow me in. Got it?”
“Got it,” he affirmed.
At that, she crept nearer and nearer to the corner until she was no longer afforded the cover that the hedge provided. The store was directly across the street from her; she was in full view of anyone in the car, but it didn’t deter her. She held steady, her hand wrapping around her gun. As she watched for any movement in the car or the store, she stood unmoving, statuesque.
In a second, she was waving, and Aaron immediately had his radio up. His words were choppy and breathless as he and Nyla ran towards the building together. She’d held back just long enough for him to make up the ground between them.
“I saw shadows moving around by the window,” she informed him as they approached the store. “I think maybe three people in the building, one in the car. Stay here with the driver until that back-up gets here; I’ll see what’s going on inside.”
“Copy,” Aaron said. When he reached the suspect car, he held his gun up in front of him, calling to the driver and directing him out of the car. His eyes drifted up to watch Nyla approach the store, and he only brought his gaze off of her to see the driver’s hands to cuff them. He had just finished reciting the driver’s Miranda rights when more officers arrived on the scene, at which point the driver was transferred into custody in one of their shops while Aaron explained the situation.
Nyla was stood at the entrance to the corner store, the right side of her body flush against the wall and the barrel of her gun aimed at the door. “LAPD,” she called before swiftly opening the door. She was met with, as she’d predicted, three people—two men, one woman. They were masked and huddled around the cash register. Nyla chuckled a little to herself when she noticed they hadn’t yet gotten the thing open. “Hands where I can see them,” she instructed coolly. With a nod to the register, she said, “Harder than it looks, isn’t it?”
The suspects didn’t answer. They simply scowled as officers from outside, including Aaron, flooded into the store. Nyla, Aaron, and one other officer each cuffed a suspect, reading them their rights as they led them outside.
“Leave her with them,” Nyla instructed Aaron, who was escorting the woman.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, bringing the woman over to one of the assisting officers before catching up with Nyla and the man she was escorting at their shop.
“Easy,” the man said as Nyla firmly shuffled him into the back of their shop. “I thought women were supposed to be gentle.”
“Not all of us,” Nyla replied acerbically, slamming the door shut and looking up to Aaron. “Nice job out there,” she said.
He’d found her tone a little wry for a compliment, and it struck him as comedic that she didn’t wait for his response before turning away, opening her own door, and getting into the car. Still, he said, “Thanks,” before walking to the driver’s side and taking his seat beside her.
The man they’d arrested was, as it turned out, chatty. Several times, Nyla told him to stop talking, and each time he’d reply with some variation of “I couldn’t annoy you anymore if you just let me go.” And, naturally, each time she’d refuse, and the cycle would restart. It wasn’t until he brought up something that made Nyla and Aaron’s blood run cold that he’d earned a new response.
“Say that again,” Nyla directed.
“I said I heard they got that Dyer bitch. Didn’t even take that much. Shot down by cops? Anticlimactic if you ask me. Isn’t she supposed to be… some sort of mastermind or something?” the man asked, looking between Aaron and Nyla as he spoke.
“Everyone’s gotta die somehow,” Nyla replied, unentertained.
“I don’t know. Woman like that? I’d bet money she had a bunch of contingencies. Hell, maybe it’s all a hoax. Maybe she’s still out there somewhere. Waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“The right time. To come back. Maybe cause even more trouble than she did before everyone thought she was gone. I mean, it’s all some big game for a person like her, ain’t it? And it’d be one hell of a play to come back from the dead. Like some… fucked-up, perverted Jesus thing.”
“Alright, I’ve heard enough,” Nyla said, sitting up straighter. “Stop talking. Now.”
“Struck a nerve, did I? Suppose it makes sense. Didn’t she target one of your people? Has to be a little embarrassing for the department, right? A serial killer snatching one of your own and then escaping your custody not too long after? Kind of makes it seem like LAPD can’t protect and serve its officers or its city, but it can damn well protect and serve a serial killer.”
“I said I’ve heard enough.”
Her words had a bite to it, and, to her surprise, it was enough to finally silence the man. It turned out, however, that the quiet was worse as the weight of his comments weighed down the shop and hung over the three of them until they were finally back at the station.
ΔΔΔ
Tim had insisted to Genny that he was fine to get out of the car and into his home on his own—no assistance necessary. She was not of the same opinion, and, given that she was physically stronger for the time being, she used it to her advantage, running around the car before he was even able to stand and wrestling herself up under his arm. “Think of me as your IV pole,” she teased, gently helping him to his feet. He rolled his eyes, but, now that she was already situated, he didn’t decline her aid. “Just… much more fun.”
“Thanks,” he said, and she could tell it was sincere. She knew him that well, at least. Maybe he wouldn’t ever ask her for help in as many words, but she could always count on him to appreciate it once she gave it.
“You are my brother,” she replied with a small laugh. “It’s part of the deal, right?”
He’d have given her a proper response if he wasn’t too focused on getting himself up the walkway and through the front door. Genny knew he’d never admit as much, but, realistically, he’d have never made it there on his own. Not on his feet, anyway. Perhaps he’d have managed it with a crawl. Therefore, while his attention was entirely devoted to getting himself where he needed to go, hers was on making sure her hands were in the right place. Her eyes were searching, constantly surveying him so she’d know the second anything went wrong.
It was a process, but they eventually made it. She delicately eased him down onto his sofa. Satisfied that he was as comfortable as he could be (though she knew he’d never tell her if he weren’t), she straightened herself up and exhaled deeply, looking around his living room. “Don’t get mad,” she started.
He arched a brow. “What?” he asked, brusque.
“You don’t happen to have… I don’t know, a cane or something around here, do you?”
“Why would I have a cane?” There was laughter in his voice—more laughter than pain, and that was good enough to raise Genny’s spirits some.
“Guess I’ll have to go get you one,” she sighed. Noting a hint of indignance cross his face, she tacked on a snide, “Unless you’d rather ask me for help getting to the bathroom every time you have to pee. Which you’re welcome to do by the way, but I figure that’s not really your style.”
“Fine,” he conceded. “But do not tell Chen. I’d never live that down.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to make fun of you for using a cane for a few days right after coming out of spinal surgery,” Genny laughed. “She might make fun of you if you start using it because your joints are stiff in the morning.”
“Why would my—”
“Old age.”
“Old age—”
“Alright. So a cane, some groceries, maybe a house plant or two just to… spruce the place up a little. Anything else I should pick up for you while I run out?”
“No house plants. They won’t survive Kojo.”
“Fair enough,” Genny acknowledged, deleting the line from the list she was typing on her phone. “How about like… a teddy bear?”
“Genny.”
“Teddy bear it is.” Coming to a realization, she swiftly put her phone in her lap and looked directly at Tim, who just gave her an expectant look prompting her to say what was on her mind. “I can’t just leave you here to run to the store, can I? Someone should look out for you. What if something happens while I’m gone?” She sighed. “Maybe I should add a Life Alert bracelet to the list while I’m at it.”
“Life A—Genny, it’ll be fine. I can manage an hour or two by myself.”
“Seriously. If not for your safety, then how about for my sanity? I should call Lucy.” Noticing that he was gearing up to protest, she shook her head. “It’d only be for a little while. Just long enough to pick up a few things.”
“I don’t want to bother her,” he rebuffed.
Genny pursed her lips. “You’re not even fully mobile, Tim. Someone needs to be here. She was with you in the hospital for two straight days; surely she won’t mind sticking around here long enough for me to run errands.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She sighed, exasperated. “Okay, whatever. Not Lucy. How about Ashley, then? Surely you wouldn’t mind having your girlfriend—”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
Genny furrowed her brow, now stunned into silence.
There was a short lull before Tim finally elaborated. “Yeah, she, uh… she broke up with me.” The laugh he produced was cynical, and Genny was decidedly not a fan of it. “First thing after I woke up, actually. Hell, I wasn’t even fully out of the anesthesia yet.”
“That’s… not funny.”
“It’s not meant to be funny. It’s literally how it happened.”
“Just… out of the blue like that? No warning?”
“Just like that. She claims it’s because the job is too stressful for her. She doesn’t want to wait around for me worrying about whether I’ll make it back from shift every day. It’s not an uncommon complaint, so I can’t say I’m that surprised. It was all a bit sudden, though.”
“But I thought she knew you were a cop going into the relationship. Didn’t she sort of… sign up for that?”
“I don’t know. This was the first major injury I’ve had since we got together. I guess it made it more real for her to actually see something happen to me. I mean, I was almost paralyzed. That had to be nerve-wracking for her, right?”
“And you’re… just cool with that. Not even a little upset? Because if I were you I’d be pretty pissed. At least wait until a man’s back on his feet, you know?”
He shrugged.
“Tim.”
“What do you want me to say, Genny?”
“I want you to say whatever it is that’s on your mind. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you, and I know when you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not really hiding anything,” he scoffed. “I just… don’t have much to say about it. I think part of me knew that relationship wasn’t ever going to go anywhere, so if anything it feels like… an inevitability. Had to happen eventually. Might as well be now.”
“What do you mean? You dated for almost a year. That’s pretty substantial.”
“I ever tell you what happened in Vegas? Or after?”
“I know you went undercover with Lucy. As a couple. Don’t really know how it’s relevant here, though.”
“Yeah, well, things got a little… complicated. And we almost crossed a line. A serious line. I think after that I knew Ashley and I didn’t have a future. I just didn’t know how I’d explain that to her if I broke it off, so I didn’t. Plus, I mean, there’s been so much uncertainty these last few weeks. It sounds a bit callous saying it out loud, but I think I… liked having her around because she was consistent.”
“Right…”
“I’m less bothered by the break-up itself than I am by her timing.” There was that sardonic laugh again.
“Yeah… I’m still a little fuzzy. I get what you’re saying about Ashley, but… what do you mean ‘crossed a line’?”
“I mean—nothing. It’s not that important. Lucy and I are friends and coworkers, and anything else that happened was just… undercover work.”
“I didn’t ask about your relationship status with Lucy. I asked what line you almost crossed.” Her hands clasped over her mouth when she realized. “You didn’t.”
“No,” he replied. “No. We didn’t. Honestly. We just… almost did.”
“Tim…”
“I know.”
“Tim.”
“I know.”
“Tim—”
“I know.”
“So that’s why you don’t want Lucy here. You feel guilty about what… almost… happened. Which means I was right when I said there was something going on between you two.”
“No. I don’t want Lucy here because she’s done enough already and I don’t want to bother her. Nothing more to it.”
“Sure. Whatever. But unless you can produce someone else with a few spare hours to spend with you while I do some running, she’s coming over. I can’t be shuffling you around the store, I need to pick up some of these things, and I’m not leaving you here alone.”
He sighed. Before he could answer, however, there was a knock at the door. Tim and Genny locked eyes, and he shrugged. “No idea,” he said, seeing her silent ‘Who is that?’ in the expression on her face.
Genny raised her brows, standing up and heading over to the door. “Angela,” she said brightly upon opening it, stepping out of the way to allow their guest space to enter. “Come in.”
“Hey, Genny,” Angela greeted, her eyes finding Tim immediately. “How you feelin’?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Good,” he replied. He winced; adjusting his position to face Angela pulled on his back and had sent a sharp electric burst up his spine. “As good as I possibly can, I guess.”
She gave him a short laugh, shaking her head. “I was having a bit of a slow day today, and I heard from Grey you got discharged earlier. Thought I’d drop by and see if you needed anything.”
“Perfect timing,” Genny breathed. “Do you have an hour? Maybe two? I need to run a few errands for him, and I don’t want to leave him alone like this.”
Angela looked at her watch briefly then nodded to Genny. “Sure, yeah.”
“Great,” Genny exclaimed. She quickly rushed back over to Tim’s sofa, picking up her purse from the spot on the floor where she’d set it when they’d first come in. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t cause any trouble while I’m gone,” she said to them before dashing out the door.
Angela angled her chin upwards, looking down at Tim.
“What is it?” he asked her, already accepting that she was about to tease him for something. He could read it in her expression and her posture.
“Nothing. Just thought you’d rather have Lucy around to take care of you.”
“Don’t start.”
“I know she was at your bedside for two days straight.”
“And?”
“Nothing. Just… an observation.”
“How many times are we going to go over this?”
“Oh, we’re going to keep having this conversation until you stop lying to me.”
“Lying to—I’m her superior officer. I… used to be her T.O. I don’t have feelings for her, and it wouldn’t even be appropriate if I did. And there’s no way it’d be reciprocated, so—actually, you know what? I’m not explaining myself to you. And I don’t have anything to explain anyway.”
“Come on, Bradford. It’s obvious. It’s been obvious for years.”
“Angela…”
“At least do yourself a favor and be honest with yourself. Even if you’re going to keep lying to the rest of us. Because no matter what comes of it—or doesn’t come of it, you can’t process anything you’re feeling unless you admit it’s there.”
He sighed, but he decided not to keep fighting her. It wasn’t exactly worth his (presently limited) energy to argue when he knew she was right.
ΔΔΔ
“7-L-20 to 7-Adam-15, what’s your status?”
Nolan cleared his throat, pressing down the button to respond on the shop’s radio. “All clear, sir. No sign of suspect or crime in progress.”
“You’re sure you’re canvassing the right area?” Grey’s voice crackled through the radio, and, even still, his impatience was evident. “Because according to detectives this is usually when your suspect is active.”
“Yes, we’re canvassing the right area,” Nolan replied firmly. He double-checked the street sign nearest to them. “We just passed the corner of West 7th and South Westlake. Coming up on South Alvarado. For about the eighth time this hour. If someone were out here tagging buildings, I think we’d have—”
“I said West 11th and South Westlake.”
“West 11th,” Nolan repeated, sitting up straighter and locking eyes with Celina briefly before pointing ahead forward to redirect her eyes to the road.
“Better hurry, 7-Adam-15. You do not want to know what happens if this suspect gets away again because you couldn’t listen to directions.”
“7-Adam-15, this is dispatch. I have a call for a 594 in progress. West 11th and South Alvarado.”
Nolan snapped his fingers to signal Celina to speed up. In response, she nodded, pressing her foot to the gas as Nolan answered control. “7-Adam-15 to dispatch. Show us responding.”
“7-Adam-15, be advised. LAFD is on scene.”
“Copy that.”
“LAFD?” Celina repeated, puzzled. Her eyes were glued to the road ahead of her as she turned on their shop’s siren and bolted through the streets as quickly as she could.
“Guess our vandal had a bit of trouble getting down from wherever he’s painting,” Nolan surmised. “It’s not uncommon we’re both on site for something like—watch.”
She’d drawn her gaze over to him for just a second when he’d started talking, and, in that time, a group of children walking with bicycles crossed the street in front of her. She managed to see them and slam on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting them before peeling out and resuming her top speed once more. “Close one,” she breathed, laughing nervously.
“No kidding,” Nolan huffed, making sure he paid extra close attention to the streets around them to avoid any similar incidents.
When they pulled up to the building, they were greeted swiftly by Bailey, who gave Nolan a warm smile. “Officers,” she said, the flirtatiousness in her voice evident despite the thick layer of professionalism she was attempting to hide it under.
“Captain,” Nolan replied. “Heard you caught our vandalism suspect for us. Keep it up, and I might be out of a job soon.”
Bailey nodded and began leading them to the ambulance where a young man was sitting and being attended to by a pair of paramedics. There was a small trail of blood coming down from his left temple and scrapes over much of the visible skin on his arms and legs, but, overall, he was talking and alert and seemingly in decent shape. “Raiden here took a nasty fall from the roof. Says he slipped off the ladder on his way back down. My guess is the spray paint on his hands made the rungs a bit slick,” she informed.
“Ladder?” Nolan asked, looking around the scene. “What ladder?”
“His friend—the one who called for paramedics—bailed. She must have taken the ladder with her when she left.”
“Laila,” Raiden growled, drawing Bailey, Nolan, and Celina’s attention to him. “Her name’s Laila. And we are not friends. Not anymore at least. I cannot believe she’d just leave me here like this.”
Nolan chuckled to himself, approaching the ambulance. “Is he alright to come with us to the station?” he asked the paramedic to his right.
She nodded. “Yeah, he’s fine. Some bumps and bruises, but he doesn’t appear to have any broken bones or head injuries. Got pretty lucky.”
“In some ways,” Nolan corrected, pulling the handcuffs from his utility belt. “Not so much in others.”
“You’re so funny,” Raiden interjected again. “Like, really. Hilarious.”
“Thanks,” Nolan said, earnest in his delivery despite knowing how flagrantly sarcastic Raiden had been. “Come on. Stand up.”
Raiden obliged, though petulantly, rolling his eyes and mocking Nolan through the recitation of his Miranda rights.
“Hey, Nolan?” Celina said once there was a pause in conversations.
“Yeah, Juárez?”
“You might… want to see what he was painting.”
Slowly, Nolan drew his eyes over to the side of the building, tightening his grip on Raiden’s wrists to make it clear his guard wasn’t down. The words he saw blazed across the wall in bright yellow sent a shiver through his whole body.
Rosalind Dyer is alive.
Nolan quickly redirected focus to Raiden. “Want to tell me what that’s all about?”
Raiden shrugged. “Just some harmless tagging. Does it have to mean anything?”
“That’s not harmless, and you know it.”
“Look, I don’t come up with my own tags, alright? Laila finds people who want messages spread, they pay us to get them out, and, as part of that, I paint them on the sides of a few buildings. Gets a lot of attention if you do it in the right places. Now, I don’t know who asked for this crazy shit or why, but I can tell you someone really wants Los Angeles thinking that woman survived. Like, yeah it struck me as odd, but a job’s a job, you know what I mean?”
ΔΔΔ
Nyla was tucked in earlier than usual with a book and a cup of tea, gently reading to her baby and only redirecting her attention when she heard James come into the room. Still, it wasn’t enough to pull her eyes away from the book, though she was no longer actually reading the words on the page. “Evenin’,” she greeted, her voice low.
“Hello to you too,” he replied, leaning against the doorframe. “Bit early for all this, isn’t it?”
She shrugged, finally looking up at her husband. “Maybe. I just… really needed to unwind a little tonight.”
He pushed himself off the frame and walked over to the bed, sliding in next to her and giving her a light kiss on the cheek. “Something wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong. Just had a real strange day at work.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I’m reading to your child.”
James looked down to the infant in Nyla’s arms who was soundly asleep. “I don’t think she’ll mind,” he replied.
She sighed. “Alright,” she agreed, closing the book and setting it down in front of her on the bed. “You know about Rosalind Dyer, right?”
“The serial killer,” James affirmed. “She’s dead now, isn’t she?”
“Well, yeah. Gunned down.”
“Alright. That should be… good, right? Can’t hurt anyone anymore if she’s dead.”
“I don’t know. I mean, yes, but there are some theories flyin’ around now. People thinking she’s still alive.”
“Is that possible?”
“No.”
“Okay. So then why let it worry you?”
“I’m not worried. It just… gets to me a little. She caused a lot of pain for people I care about. If there’s even a chance she’s not actually gone—”
“I get it. You’re protective. It’s why you’re so good at what you do.”
“Damn straight,” she said, smiling her way into another kiss. “I just really thought that chapter was closed. Completely. Bit unsettling to think it might not be.”