Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

TK bops his head as he opens his locker, his headphones emitting a tinny rendition of ‘Heavy Cross’ by Gossip. He shoves his backpack in and pulls off his yellow hoodie to reveal the drab uniform underneath all the while singing softly under his breath, “It’s a cruel, cruel world to face on your own.”

He grabs his lanyard to sling around his neck and slams the locker closed, barely registering the clang of the metal over the deafening music blaring in his ears. Leaving the locker room, he slides into the hallway Breakfast Club style, grinning as he stumbles towards the cleaning cupboard. It’s rare that he gets the entire building to himself, well minus the security guard who’ll be off somewhere dosing, and he can’t help the giddiness that comes over him. The dim half-lighting in the precinct, Beth Ditto’s voice crooning in his ear, and the adrenalin of a 3am start, sets the perfect scene for TK to dance out the music video rolling in his mind’s eye.

He deals with the offices first, emptying bins and judging the lieutenant’s lunch order, before heading into the bullpen just as the chorus’ beat drops. Theatrically, he throws open the entry doors, spinning round to spray them with disinfectant and swiping over the LAPD sign. He tackles the detectives’ desks, dusting their monitors and straightening up their keyboards. He eyes one desk in particular, a mug of lollipops calling his name. He hesitates for a moment before shrugging his shoulder and plucking one from the artful display, tearing off the plastic wrapping and popping it in his mouth.

Eventually he pulls out the cumbersome, ancient vacuum that he swears creates more dust than it hoovers. He shimmies his hips, as he drags it back and forth over the linoleum. He has one last burst of energy as the song draws to a close and gives an overzealous hip pop. He feels rather than sees his ass connect with something, sending it crashing to the floor. He winces, rushing to switch off the vacuum and turns to face the destruction he’s caused. It isn’t the first time his dance moves have gotten him into trouble.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters around the lollipop still in his mouth and pulls his headphones down to his neck. A box of files has toppled from a desk, case notes and images splayed out across the floor. Thank god he hasn’t began mopping yet. He falls to his knees and scrambles to pull them together. “I really hope these weren’t in any order.”

Just as he reaches for some of the papers, a particular photograph catches his eye. It’s of a man, gunshot wound to the chest, lying on his back atop a blood-soaked rug. He pulls the lolly from his mouth with a pop. He reaches for another photograph, this one of a couch that has a row of perfectly placed and meticulously hand-chopped cushions. The next is of a shelving unit, tasteful vases and décor spread out in a measured, intentional way. There are others: blood splatter, a shot gun and a portrait of the deceased man wrapped around a beautiful woman that TK can only assume is his partner. He holds the photo of the couple up to eye level, and it’s then that he clocks the case board ineffectively rammed into the corner of the precinct. He rises slowly, stumbling towards it until he’s within arm’s reach. In the centre, is the deceased’s partner, her name ‘Lynette Acosta’ printed in neat lettering above her photograph, followed by ‘Wife, Lawyer, Mother’. Underneath, in the same script is ‘SUSPECT’.

TK frowns. They’ve got it wrong. His hands at his side itch to reach out for a pen to add to the board. He turns around, “Just leave it, TK.” He really needs to stay out of trouble. He really needs to keep this job. But he’s only halfway back to the mess he’s left on the floor when he groans theatrically. He can either leave now and face the long stretch of sleepless nights ahead, or he can turn around, fix their error and keep a hold on what little sanity he has left. Biting his lip, he spins back around and stalks over to the board, swiping a red pen from the ledge.

Underneath ‘SUSPECT’, in his slanted chicken scratch, he scribbles ‘VICTIM’. For good measure, he scores through the word above, to really drive home his point.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he feels the slight edge of tension leave the lines of his shoulders. He replaces the pen, tidies the files back into the box, finishes his shift and heads out of the precinct as the first few detectives pull into the carpark. The bus trundles around the corner, stopping to let him on, and as he plops down into a window seat, he pulls his headphones back on to listen to ‘Heavy Cross’ for the tenth time that morning.

“Morning, Lieutenant! Did you sleep well?”

Tommy Vega offers a tired smile to Detective Marjan Marwani as she enters the bullpen. As always, her detective looks immaculate: a flawless face of makeup; the bright pop of her fuchsia lipstick matching the pink of her hijab and tailored pants.

“You want me to lie to you?” Tommy asks, heading directly for the coffee cart.

Marjan twirls in her desk chair, smiling as she spins back around to face her computer, “Sort of.”

“Fantastic. Like a baby.”

Before Marjan can so much as attempt an eye roll at her lieutenant’s blatant fib, the bullpen doors burst open as Detective Carlos Reyes tears through like a tornado in a trailer park, a cheerful Detective Mateo Chavez trailing behind him. 

“Lieutenant slept great,” Marjan pipes up, smirking at the disinterested side eye Carlos throws her way, accompanied with a curt, “I didn’t ask.” He takes a sip from his takeaway coffee as he makes a beeline for the case board, “And, no, she did not.”

The reality is that none of them slept well last night. This case is already busting their balls. Carlos had wanted to have some sort of breakthrough, some sort of answer or explanation at the ready ahead of calling the victim’s daughter to break the news of her father’s murder and mother’s disappearance but so far, they’d drawn a blank. Unable to postpone it any longer, he’d made the call late last night. Letty Acosta sobbed down the line whilst Carlos shifted uncomfortably at his desk, wanting to offer consolation but not knowing how. She’d had so many questions, half of which he hadn’t been able to answer. Lieutenant Vega sent him home afterwards with a strict order to rest, and Carlos had pretended to comply. He drove home in silence, stepping into his painfully quiet and empty loft, and sat at the dining table without turning the lights on, his mind racing a mile a minute. The case just isn’t making any sense. He can’t find a motive for the wife to have murdered her husband, Anthony Acosta. She has seemingly vanished into thin air with no leads and now Carlos has their daughter flying in for questioning where he’ll have to ask the grieving woman to pick apart her parents’ marriage. He’d rubbed a hand over his eyes, his expression weary. Then, going against his better judgment and his lieutenant’s, he brewed a cup of coffee and resorted to a night of agonising over ever tiny case detail in lieu of sleep.

So, it is safe to say, today he’s feeling cranky. Letty’s visit to the precinct is imminent and a hopeful, naïve part of him still believes in the few hours before her arrival he can solve the case and give the daughter some sort of closure. Tommy finishes making her coffee and joins him by the board, spinning round to face her team. She can see the sleep deprivation written into the lines of their faces, and the tension rolling off Carlos is palpable. She loves her team; they’re incredibly hard-working, passionate and good people. They care about their jobs, their cases, and most of all they care about each other — something that Tommy is still trying to accept. She has spent her entire career facing both racism and misogyny. Trying to rise through the ranks as a woman is one thing, but as an Afro-Latina woman? At times it had felt impossible. There were so many moments when she wanted to throw in the towel, to abandon all her career prospects and leave the male-dominated world of law enforcement behind. And every day she thanks her lucky stars that she didn’t, otherwise, she never would have found this team. This team who care too much. That pull all-nighters on the regular, that alone could fund an entire coffee shop, and stop at nothing to make sure their cases are solved.

“Okay, listen up,” she calls them to attention. Marjan and Mateo, eager as ever, scramble to grab their notepads and assemble by the board. “So… how do we find the wife?”

“Only other next of kin is the sister,” Carlos provides, “Sofia Bellier.” He turns to the board to point out her photo when he falters, his eyes landing on the garish red ink that he swears wasn’t there yesterday.

“Detective?” Tommy prompts, frowning at his silence. She follows his line of sight and her mouth twists in confusion.

Carlos spins back around to face the team, his anger misplaced, and voice strained, “Who did this?”

Mateo and Marjan share a look of bemusement.

“Hey!” Carlos yells, his voice booming and ricochetting around the room. The entire place goes silent as everyone startles and turns to stare. “Who did this?!” Carlos points at the red ‘VICTIM’, tapping the board aggressively. “Who changed our board? A man is dead. Our primary suspect is missing. This is not a joke.”

He’s met with more silence, a sea of blank faces blinking at him. Patrol officers shift uneasily at the sidelines as they watch on. Carlos takes a deep, steadying breath. “Marjan? I want to know who did this.”

Marjan nods immediately, her eyes rising to the security cameras above them. “On it.”

She hurries back to her desk, and the rest of the precinct resumes, descending into chatter and harried keyboard clacking.

TK hums in his usual carefree manner as he pushes the cart down the fresh produce aisle, making sure he remembers to grab two punnets of blueberries as it’s all Jonah seems to be willing to eat these days.

“Bwueberries!” Jonah cries in delight, clapping his hands from where TK has strapped him into the front of the cart. TK smiles at his little brother’s lisp. He still struggles to pronounce his Ls, but everyone he’s spoken to assures him he’ll grow out of it. A very small selfish part of TK dreads the day he’ll lose the endearing inflection.

“That’s right, blueberries. You eat so many, you’re going to turn into one,” he reaches out a hand to ruffle through Jonah’s hair who giggles adorably.

“I’m not a bwueberry, papa-bro!”

“Not yet.”

TK turns into the next aisle and picks up the pace, hoping he can bypass the magazines and toys before Jonah realises what he’s looking at. No such luck. “Papa, papa, stop!” TK groans internally and slows down.

“Jonah,” he starts, attempting to sound firm, “We’re not here for toys, okay? You have plenty of toys at home.”

“But, wook!” he points insistently at a toy fire truck, “A fire truck. Pretty pwease, papa-bro?”

TK freezes as he looks at the fire truck: a whole other life represented by that singular cheap toy. A bucketload of memories threaten to flood his brain. His dad’s face flashes across his mind, his training, his probationary firefighter days and then the downfall: the relapse, the floating aimlessly from job to meaningless job, losing his mom and assuming guardianship of Jonah. He takes a deep breath as Jonah continues to babble.

“Jonah, if you want a fire truck that bad, you can ask for one for your birthday, okay?”

Jonah deflates, a little pout pulls at his lips and TK wants to give in so bad. But bad memories aside, he has to stay on track with his budgeting. He has pre-calculated the entire shop and is prepared with a stack of coupons. He needs to stick to their plan, no deviating from it. He pulls to the side of the aisle to let a family past and Jonah slumps forward, resting his cheek against TK’s hand. “I know, buddy.” TK murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to his hair. He’s just about to offer a compromise, that maybe they can swing by a firehouse or go home and paint one to send to Owen when his phone starts ringing.

He digs it out of his pocket, hitting accept when he sees Paul’s name flash across the screen. “Yello?”

“TK what have I said about answering the phone like that?”

“That it makes me sound super cool and I should keep doing it?”

Paul heaves a long-suffering sigh, “Nope.”

“Did you just call me to be cruel?”

“Actually, no. You kind of need to get home, like now.”

TK frowns at the seriousness in Paul’s voice, he looks down at Jonah briefly and then turns away from him. “What’s going on, man?”

“I’m not sure, some cops pulled up at your house, knocking at the door. I thought maybe something had happened to you or Jonah, so I went out and they started giving me the third-degree asking where you were.”

TK swallows uneasily, “Okay. Did they say why they were looking for me?”

“They wouldn’t tell me anything, but I thought I should give you a heads up. It doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Shit,” TK hisses. At a little gasp he spins around to see a wide-eyed Jonah looking up at him. “I mean, sheep! Ah, sheep.” Jonah still looks suspicious but settles his head back down.

“Is everything okay, man?” Paul asks, his voice full of concern. TK closes his eyes, feeling a wave of gratitude for his friend and neighbour. Paul has had his back more times than he can count. Not to mention, Jonah absolutely adores him.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it’s nothing,” But even as he says it, he knows it can’t be true. Cops don’t camp outside your house for nothing, after all. “Listen, I’ll be home soon. Jonah and I just need to check out. Let them know I’m on my way, there’s no point dragging this out.”

“Sure. See you soon.”

TK’s mind races as he heads to check out. Handing over his coupons to the cashier, he moves down to pack items into bags distractedly, barely registering what he’s grabbing. Jonah sits in the cart, swinging his legs and being suspiciously well behaved. TK had anticipated a major temper tantrum after denying him the fire truck.

“Alright,” the cashier startles him from his thoughts, “Your grand total is $1-“

“$168.47,” TK finishes for her, pulling out the exact change in cash and shooting her a cheeky smile.

She raises an eyebrow and flips the screen around, “Actually, no. $173.81.” She gives him a tight smile, “Good guess, though.”

TK frowns. There’s no way he could have miscalculated.  “Yeah, no, it’s $168.47.”

The cashier barely contains her sigh, “Sorry. It’s $173.81.”

“Oh,” TK grabs his coupons from behind the register, “Maybe you missed a coupon?” He starts to shuffle through them, “Uh, 30% off detergent at $7.87. That’s $2.36. For a total of $5.51. 15% of blueberries. That’s 84 cents. And up to two, so you scan this one twice.” He looks up to make sure the cashier is following along. She nods at him curtly. “Okay. 35% of canola oil at $7.88. $5.13 total. Oh. Okay, I was worried about this one because I had a little falling-out with the Groupon people, but I apologised. We were supposed to be good.”

Deadpan, the cashier replies despondently, “That one scanned.”

“Huh,” TK’s gaze drifts down to the bags of shopping as his mind rattles through his calculations. He can hear Jonah sigh in boredom behind him. “$5.34 more then.” He mutters, reaching over to sift past the detergent, the cereal, the toothpaste –

There, at the bottom of one of the bags is a little plastic red fire truck. TK lets out a sigh. He reaches for it, brandishing it in his hand as he turns to his little brother.

“Jonah?”

Jonah raises his eyes guiltily. “Sorry papa-bro,” he mumbles, his eyes downcast.

TK turns back to the cashier, noting the long line of customers that has accumulated behind him. He purses his lips, “Sorry, I’ll just give you that back,” he hands over the fire truck, “and that.” He deposits the cash in her hand, trying to ignore the watchful eyes of the audience. A year or two ago, he may have felt embarrassed. But Jonah has humbled TK in many ways since being under his care, and he’s used to the thinly veiled judgement from strangers as they look on at TK like he’s a good-for-nothing single dad.

Besides, how can he have time to feel embarrassed when a cohort of cops await his return home?

“Tyler Kennedy Strand?”

A fine sheen of sweat glistens across TK’s skin, the LA sun beating down relentlessly. The trip from the bus stop to his house is only a ten-minute walk but laden with heavy shopping bags and coaxing a tired Jonah along has him wiped – and it’s not even 10am. Jonah’s fingers curl around his wrist as they approach their home. The detective that spoke takes a step forward.

TK glances at him, aware of Paul opening his door out the corner of his eye. All TK wants is a shower, a tall glass of icy cold water and a nap on the couch.

“It’s TK. And who’s asking?” he answers, setting down the bags by his front door.

The detective looks unimpressed, watching his movements closely. If TK didn't feel so harried he might've otherwise enjoyed the man’s attention. He's certainly his type: taller, tousled curls, dark lashes, smooth skin and a fit physique. That much is evident even with his suit pants, shirt, tie and jacket obscuring the view. He raises a hand to pull the jacket in question aside, flashing the badge at his hip. “Detective Reyes with the LAPD. We have some questions for you. It’s time sensitive.”

Jonah pulls at TK’s hand insistently, a silent plea to be held. Usually, he’d give him a soft chastise and tease him that he is getting too big to be carried. But today he relents, seeking his brother’s comfort just as much as he seeks his. He perches him on his hip and raises a single eyebrow, “Ask away.”

Detective Reyes’ eyes flit over to where Paul hovers in his neighbouring doorway, ready to jump in and help if need be, then down to Jonah who has tucked his face into TK’s chest. “We need you to come down to the station with us.”

Narrowing his eyes, TK turns around to glance at the cop car parked by the curb, and the unmarked car behind it. He lets out a sigh. There are a lot of things this could be about; he might as well see what’s reared its ugly head from his past to bite him in the ass.

“Paul?” he calls out and Paul rushes over immediately, placing himself aside TK and Detective Reyes, who he eyes with a blend of intense curiosity and fierce protectiveness.

“You good?” he asks.

TK grimaces, “This lovely detective would like to take me down to the station for some questioning. You wouldn’t mind watching Jonah for a while?”

Paul nods his head, “Don’t worry about it, man. I’ve got him.”

“You hear that, Jonah?” TK lifts his tone to something more jovial as he gives his little brother a squeeze, smiling down at him. “You get to spend the morning with Uncle Paul!”

Jonah pulls back, his eyes wide. “Can you stay too?”

“I can’t but I’ll be home soon, okay, buddy? Why don’t you show Uncle Paul where all the groceries go?” TK sets him down and unlocks the front door. With one last hesitant look over his shoulder, Jonah races inside.

Paul lingers uncertainly, “Give me a call when you’re done, and we’ll come pick you up.” The underlying message is clear: call me if you need help. TK nods and lets the detective lead him to the back of the cop car.

TK wants to die. Okay, that’s dramatic even for him. But he does wish he could turn invisible. Jonah has humbled him, sure, but maybe not enough. His cheeks are warm and despite wishing he were somewhere else; he keeps his eyes glued to the screen to avoid the detectives’ gazes. He watches as he, only mere hours ago, dances across the screen whilst hoovering. He spins around and with a particularly zealous flair, thrusts his hips to the side.

God, his mom was right. He has no rhythm. He winces, glancing to the side and meeting the very much unamused face of Detective Reyes. He tries for a smile, “Sometimes the music takes control.”

The woman who had introduced herself as Lieutenant Vega looks slightly less threatening, a hint of a smile simmering underneath her professional façade. “Tampering with a criminal case is a serious crime.”

“So is obstruction of justice.” Detective Reyes intones.

Isn’t he just a barrel of laughs, TK thinks sardonically. “I wasn’t tampering.” He insists, sitting up straighter. “I saw a problem and I tried to fix it.”

Reyes lifts a disbelieving eyebrow, “You were trying to help us?”

A wave of exhaustion crashes over TK and in a rare moment of honesty he replies wearily, “No, I don’t care about you. I wanted to be able to sleep.”

Vega leans forward, confusion warring with her want to understand.

TK sighs, no one gets it, they never do. He can’t believe he’s about to be fired from another job. Jonah’s social worker is going to love this. “I have a… compulsion to put things right.” He tries to explain. “If I see a mistake, I need to correct it. Otherwise, I’m up all night obsessing.”

Vega nods slowly, hearing him out. It’s not the usual reaction he’s accustomed to when he messes up or becomes hyper-fixated on little details at work. Typically, his employer will brush away his explanation with a scoff. This is the first time anyone has simply sat and listened.

“That’s all I was doing, cleaning up your mess. You want to arrest me for that? Fine. Go ahead.”

Reyes stands abruptly, reaching for his handcuffs, “You got it.”

Vega holds out a hand to stop him and reaches for the case file, flipping it open. The same photograph of the shot man lying in his own blood is at the top of the file. “What mistakes did you see?” she asks, her earnest expression filled with curiosity.

Reyes scoffs, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

TK for his part, is momentarily frozen. He looks between the photograph and the lieutenant, disbelief rendering him temporarily speechless. And then, his need to set things right kicks in, pushing him forward to reach for the file.

“Okay, so… you’ve got a dead body.” He points to the first photo. “I’m assuming you think this lady offed her husband,” here he points to the photograph of Anthony and Lynette Acosta, “but that’s not possible.”

Reyes perks up and takes a step forward, TK's words finally grabbing his attention.

“Look at this room. Look at this couch,” TK holds up the photograph of the impeccably placed throw cushions on the couch. “All of these pillows are evenly spaced with alternating colours. Check out these shelves,” he swipes to the photo underneath, “Those objects are perfectly sized. Even the choice of metals is consistent. This house is immaculate. The owner is a tidiness freak, except…” he holds up another image, “All of these curtains are fastened with a tieback except for one, for some reason.” He taps the curtain in question.

Vega shares a look with Reyes. Finally, he has their undivided attention. “That’s odd, isn’t it? You’re telling me this woman who meticulously arranges her couch pillows doesn’t care about her curtains?”

Reyes cocks his head to the side in thought, “It’s a stretch…”

“Hm, no,” TK plows on, “The tieback must have been used for something else. See in this photo, you’ve got hairs stuck to the chair leg, indicating someone put tape around it and ripped it off. The glue remained and trapped little bits –“

Reyes shakes his head, “The samples are at the lab. We found no tape at the scene.”

“That means, someone was tied up with the curtain cord and taped to the chair around their ankles. And… since there are no marks on the victim’s wrist, it wasn’t him who was tied up. Which means, there was a third person.”

TK begins to check a list off using his fingers, “We have Lynette tied to the chair, victim on the ground and our unknown bondage freak, who has either kidnapped or bumped off Lynette. That’s the person you need to find.”

Vega purses her lips in thought, combing back over his theory.

“So… you guys made mistakes. I fixed them. Let’s not make a big deal out of this.” He shoots Reyes a shit eating grin. The detective narrows his eyes at him in retaliation. “You got a suspect to find, and I got a toddler to feed, so if you will excuse me.” He pushes himself out of the chair.

“Sit down.” Reyes snaps. TK falters, half-risen from his seat. “Let’s wait for the lab results. For now, this is all just speculation from a possible madman.”

TK glowers, opening his mouth to unleash holy hell on this overly attractive but miserable little man who seems hellbent on hating him when there’s a knock at the lieutenant’s door. Two detectives, a man and woman, file in. The woman strides ahead, “We have surveillance footage. A woman was seen entering the house at the time of the murder.”

“The third person!” TK exclaims excitedly. The woman barely spares him a glance but the man behind looks at him with amusement dancing in his eyes. Now there’s a detective who looks fun, he thinks.

Vega rises from her seat and TK only just manages to catch an expression of shock briefly flash across Reyes’ face before it hardens again. “Chavez, please escort Mr Strand to the holding cell.”

“What?!” TK yells in disbelief, looking towards Vega for help.

“We have to check your story out.”

Vega looks at him sympathetically, her voice warm as she explains, “If it all checks out, then you have nothing to worry about.”

Detective Chavez takes a step towards him, and he throws up his hands, “I know how to stand.” He rises to his feet and childishly glares at Reyes before allowing himself to be led out of the office. “I was just cleaning up your mess! You’re welcome!” he yells over his shoulder. He should have just stayed in bed this morning. Or better yet, he should have left that damn board alone. He thinks of Jonah at home and his stomach clenches. That kid deserves a whole lot of blueberries and spades of model fire trucks to make up for today.

Carlos whirls round to face Tommy, Marjan hovering in the doorway. “Since when do you show an open case file to a civilian, a potential suspect?” There’s heat in his voice, and if anyone else had attempted to speak to the lieutenant like that they’d be looking at a disciplinary and transfer. But Tommy knows better. She knows Carlos can be quick to anger but it always comes from a place of caring too much. The entire case hangs in the balance, and he is desperate for some answers.

Unaffected, Tommy leans back in her chair, keeping her tone measured. “Can you refute anything he said?”

Carlos sighs and the fire in his eyes flickers out. Just like there aren’t many people to challenge Tommy, there aren’t many who can have such a calming effect on Carlos other than his lieutenant. He sinks down into the chair TK just vacated, “Well, we have to be sure because if he’s right…”

“Then we currently have a botched homicide investigation with no leads.” Tommy finishes, casting a worried glance towards the case file. She sounds resigned, her mask down for a second to reveal the fatigue underneath.

“And even worse, we have a second victim.” Marjan tacks on, reminding them of the severity of the situation.

Carlos lets that sink in. A second victim. He clenches his fist as he thinks of the victim’s daughter, Letty Acosta, and the fact that there may now be an outcome where he has to tell her she’s an orphan. A fact he might have missed if it hadn’t been pointed out to him by a cocky janitor with a penchant for dancing on the job.

TK paces the short length of the cell, his arms hugged tightly around him. He isn’t allowed his phone and the lack of communication with Paul makes him uneasy. He just hopes that he and Jonah are okay. It’s nearing midday and TK doesn’t even know if Paul had plans for the day. Luckily, given it’s the weekend, TK knows he’s not keeping him from work. The high school English teacher has reminded TK many a time that his weekends are for sticking close to home and living his best introverted life — which TK joked meant he had an on-call babysitter two out of seven days a week. What he hadn’t accounted for was needing to cash that check in so soon.

He spots Detective Chavez out in the hallway, “Hello!” he yells, trying to grab his attention. The detective unsuccessfully averts his eyes too late, pretending he can’t see or hear him.

TK groans and throws himself down onto the metal bench. Elbows on his knees, he drops his head into his hands and massages his temples. If CPS finds out he is in a holding cell, then he is cooked. If it weren’t for his dad and firefighter Judd Ryder’s letters of commendation, he isn’t too sure Jonah would be with him at all. Every day he feels like he must prove they made the right decision; that Jonah belongs with him and not in the care system. He wallows in his own self-pity for another half an hour before Chavez returns, grinning as he unlocks the cell and slides the door open.

“You’re clear. Just need to sign your paperwork, and you’re good to go.”

TK heaves himself up from the bench and follows the detective back out into the bullpen. He slows down as they pass by the woman detective, who he’s since overheard is called Detective Marwani, Detective Reyes and Lieutenant Vega who are all huddled around a desk. Reyes’ voice is commanding, and TK pauses to listen, “She claims to know nothing about Lynette’s whereabouts, but Zhang has no alibi, we have her at the scene, and we have motive.”

TK’s eyes zero in on the laptop that seems to be the focal point of the briefing, running footage of a security camera, capturing a woman on the front doorstep of what he assumes is the Acosta household.

“Once we make the arrest, we’ll lean on her for Lynette’s location.”

“Come on,” Chavez gestures towards his desk. TK glances at it, biting his lip and once again facing the decision of keeping his trap shut or fixing a mistake.

He sighs and turns to nod towards the laptop, “The video has the wrong date on the timestamp.” He says, wincing as he does. He really just wants to go home. Why can’t he keep quiet?

The case has finally had a breakthrough, and Carlos won’t let him ruin it. The surveillance footage placed a third person, a woman named Lishka Zhang, at the Acosta household on the day of Anthony Acosta’s murder. Three months ago, she filed a civil lawsuit against her boss - one of Lynette Acosta’s clients - for sexual harassment and assault, and she lost. Due to insufficient evidence, Zhang couldn’t file criminal charges, suing him had been her only option. Following the loss, Zhang began to send Lynette Acosta threatening emails, which when Carlos questioned her on not even an hour ago, she claims were harmless: she only wanted to know why Acosta had been complicit in a woman’s suffering. She swears she wasn’t angry enough to hurt Lynette Acosta. But with legal action out of the question, Carlos has his doubts. What he can’t quite fit into the equation is the look on Zhang’s face when he showed her the security footage of her at the Acosta property yesterday, caught in 4K at the scene of the crime, thirty minutes before the murder took place. The look of horror and confusion felt eerily genuine. She insists she had been working from home all day yesterday, but with no one to confirm her alibi, all signs point to her being their primary suspect.

Reyes turns around the quickest. “This doesn’t concern you anymore.”

TK bristles at his chilly tone, and stalks over to Chavez’s desk, grabbing a pen from the detective’s outstretched hand and signing his release form with a flourish as he quips, “Great!”

He throws the pen back down and heads for the exit.

“Wait,” Lieutenant Vega rises from where she perches at the edge of Detective Marwani’s desk, “What are you talking about?”

TK halts. “That’s not from yesterday.” He states simply.

The detectives’ faces are blank. Must he spell out everything to them? What are they taught in the police academy? Is the detective exam just a game of Clue?

“Look at the trees,” he sighs, pointing to the laptop as Marwani hits replay on the footage. “The wind is blowing from south to north.”

Still, the detectives continue to look at him like he has grown a second head. Growing impatient, he rushes on, his speech rapidly increasing in speed, “Wind in the L.A. Basin blows from the south in the summer, specifically mid-July to September. Then, in late fall, winds shift in from the north, peaking in January. So that’s got to be from several months ago.”

Reyes stands straight, “How do you know which way the wind is blowing?”

“Have you even looked at the footage?” TK cries in disbelief, rolling his eyes to add insult to injury. Pointing back at the screen, he continues, “You got a church.”

The detectives lean forward in sync, scrunching up their eyes to pick out the church that is barely visible in the background of the footage, tucked down in a valley. “What does a church have to do with this?” Chavez asks, his face the picture of utter confusion.

“Churches face east.” He replies like that should clear everything up. Obviously not judging by the baffled expressions surrounding him. “Okay, uh, around the 8^th century, priests started orienting their churches facing east. They said it was based off the designs for the Holy Temple in Jerusalem,” he draws in a breath, “But, it’s also possible that they wanted the sunrise behind them to make them appear more godlike and impressive. But that’s not something we need to get into right now.”

“All churches face east?” Vega asks, doubt seeping into her voice. “And can’t the wind change direction?”

Marwani spins around and begins clacking away at her keyboard. “According to Wikipedia, Catholic churches built here in the 1800s do, so, yes.”

TK nods, “And the wind was definitely blowing from the north yesterday.” His mind flashes back to the plastic carrier bag that had been whipped up into his face whilst he and Jonah played at the park the day before. Flailing his hands to grab the grotty bag from where it had wrapped itself around his face, Jonah found his big brother’s antics hysterical, nearing peeing himself from laughter. So, yeah, he definitely knows which way the wind had blown yesterday but he would keep that particular piece of evidence to himself.

Marwani pushes back from her desk, turning to her colleagues and TK. “He’s right. On both counts.”

TK bows to her sarcastically, but the smile they share is genuine. That is, until he catches Reyes’ eyes. But for the first time since they met this morning, the man doesn’t look like he totally hates his guts. There’s something glimmering in his eye that TK can’t quite yet decipher. “Someone doctored the video.” He says resolutely, summarising TK’s point.

Vega sighs deeply. TK inches backwards, nodding sympathetically. “Anyway…” he takes another step away, “See ya!”

With no one stopping him this time he charges out of the bullpen and towards the precinct’s entrance. “Good lord,” he mutters to himself. Paul is not going to believe a word of this. Hell, he isn’t even fully convinced that this isn’t some really bizarre, long-winded dream and his 3am alarm is about go off any minute now.

“Wait!” a familiar voice calls.

He was so close.

Vega jogs to catch up, offering him a friendly smile. They face each other awkwardly for a moment. “How do you do that?”

He’s surprised it took them this long to ask. TK shrugs, “Like I told you, I don’t sleep much. I watch a lot of documentaries.” He turns to leave but her voice roots him in place.

“That doesn’t remotely explain this.”

TK takes a deep breath, casting an eye over the torrent current of officers, detectives and civilians streaming past them. Shifting his feet, he confesses: “I also have an IQ of 160. So that might have something to do with it.” Vega’s lips part in surprise. “But you can learn a lot from a good documentary. You’d be surprised.” The lieutenant still looks speechless, shaking her head in disbelief. He’s used to this reaction and quite frankly he’s over it. “It’s a high IQ. We get it. Can I go now?”

Vega seems to snap out of her trance, “I know a lot of really smart people. They’re not you.”

TK swallows visibly and straightens his posture. Growing up, his IQ used to be a secret weapon; a special kind of superpower. But after a certain point, the look of disbelief wasn’t to do with wonder but moreso to do with suspicion. He gets it. He dropped out of college. Fell into addiction. Somehow missed all the signs of his boyfriend’s affair. Had to leave the firehouse before his probationary period was even up. Someone with an IQ of 160 should not lead a life that looks like TK’s. He gets it, really he does, but he doesn’t need the constant reminder of what he could have been. “The technical term is ‘High Potential Intellectual’. It means you have advanced cognitive abilities, intellectual creativity, photographic memory, stuff like that. But I don’t know, I’ve just always been this way.” He shrugs lamely.

Vega nods slowly, “So, it’s some sort of a gift?”

TK scoffs. If only he could roll her the tape of his life. “No, not a gift.” He says decisively. “I obsess over every little problem I see. My mind is constantly spinning out of control, which makes it impossible to hold a job, relationship, a conversation.”

He hates the look of concern in Vega’s eyes, the maternal affection as she reaches out a hand to offer comfort. He blinks rapidly and steps out of her reach. “Not a gift.” He repeats. And finally, mercifully, leaves.

Stepping out into the mid-afternoon, TK is met with the wail of sirens and the sounds of distant LA traffic. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and tilts his head back to ground himself to the present. What a fucking day.

“TK!” someone yells.

His eyes snap open.  Nancy is walking towards him, concern and irritation written across her face.

“Nancy? What are you doing here?”

“Paul text me and told me you were arrested again.” She comes to his side, giving him a once-over. Too tired for her scrutiny or judgment, he brushes past her.

“I was not technically arrested this time.”

“Oh, well, great!” she exclaims, her voice laced with sarcasm. She follows behind him, repositioning her cobalt blue handbag onto her shoulder. Usually, TK is all too happy to gush over her outfits but today he resists, even though he is dying to know where she thrifted that leopard-print fur coat from. “That’s a relief. Who’s watching the kid?”

Two cops intercept their path, judgement and disdain displayed on their faces plainly. “Hey. Why don’t you take this little domestic somewhere else?”

TK chuckles humourlessly, “I’d love to but you’re standing right in the way.” The cop who had spoken, turns his eyes to Nancy. “Why are you looking at her?”

Nancy curls her lip, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “Yeah, please don’t look at me.”

He returns his stare to TK, “Take her out of here.”

TK’s eyebrows shoot up. Nancy lets out a singular, dry humph of laughter. “He’s not taking me anywhere. He's a janitor.”

TK jerks back, gasping in mock-offence, “That’s not really relevant right now, Nance.”

“Well, are you going to whisk me away in your cleaning cart? Woo me with your light bulb changing skills? See? It’s relevant.”

The cop rolls his eyes, “I don’t care. Put a muzzle on her, or I will.”

TK winces as he watches Nancy’s smirk drop from her face lightning quick. “Oh, that’s not what you should say.”

Nancy takes a step towards the cop, “Oh, did you say-“ the other cop intercepts, grabbing her arm, “Don’t touch me, okay?!”

“Nancy. Nancy!” TK attempts to intervene but thankfully as quickly as it left her, his friend’s sense comes back to her. She throws up her hands in surrender, “Okay. That’s fine.”

“Nanc-“ TK sees the moment in which she loses her battle with keeping a lid on her temper in real time. In an instance, she swings her bag toward the officer who made the offensive remark. “We’re cooked.”

Letty Acosta follows Carlos to his car after he introduces himself as the detective handling the investigation into her father’s murder. He attempts to try and convey his condolences, but the “I’m very sorry for your loss” sounds empty even to his own ears. It pains him to look into her teary eyes and only be able to offer an apology. He needs to solve this case for the broken young woman in front of him. If her mom is out there, he is going to stop at nothing to bring her home.

As they drive to the station, Letty sniffles quietly from the passenger seat. For the past ten minutes, she has been silent, gazing out of the window bleary eyed. Carlos can’t imagine how weird it must be to be visiting home but unable to stay in her parents’ house. As they slow to a crawl in the downtown traffic, she turns to face him. “My mom’s dead, too, isn’t she?”

Carlos swallows uneasily then offers her the only answer he can: “I don’t know.” Her shoulders slump in defeat, her gaze falling to her to lap. “But I believe that she’s out there and she’s alive and I will not stop looking until I find her.” She looks up, hope brightening her eyes ever so slightly. “But I need your help, Letty. The more you can tell me, the faster we can move.”

She nods, a tear trailing down her cheek. “Mom’s been having a hard time. She had a colleague at work. She killed herself. I think mom felt guilty about it.”

“Who was this colleague?”

“I don’t know, but she wrote mom a letter a couple weeks back and after that, mom started to spiral.”

This piques Carlos' interest. He spares a quick glance at her, “What did the letter say?”

“She wouldn’t tell me, but it shook her up bad. That’s really when all this started.”

“Do you know where your mom might keep a letter like that, Letty?”

“If it’s not at the house, it would be in her office.”

“And you don’t know who sent it?”

Letty pauses to think. “Only her first name. It was Sarah.”

Tommy’s grip is tight on the phone, her knuckles white and pronounced. “Because it’s material evidence into a homicide investigation.” Her tone is measured but Carlos can detect the thinly veiled frustration coursing underneath. He paces back and forth in front of her desk, hands stuffed deep into his pockets. She exhales heavily through her nose. “I understand, I understand.”

Carlos scoffs. He’s only privy to her side of the conversation and he already knows it’s been futile.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” Tommy drops the phone back in the cradle. “It’s no use.” She says to Carlos, looking at him sombrely. “Lynette Acosta is a defence attorney. There’s no way we’re gonna get a warrant to search her law offices based on the vague mention of a letter from someone named Sarah.”

Carlos straightens his back. He has a hunch. He learned a long time ago to trust his gut and this letter feels like a piece of the puzzle that he can’t ignore. “I’m gonna go down to their offices and appeal to their better nature.”

He turns to leave the office but Tommy’s voice stops him. “I don’t like our odds.”

“Neither do I, lieutenant, but we have to try everything, right?” Carlos implores. “A woman is missing, and we’re desperate here.” The ‘I’m desperate here’ goes unsaid.

Tommy studies him with a knowing look. He’s punishing himself; she knows it. There was a string of prank calls earlier in the year, some sort of exacerbated online feud between online gamers that led to a civilian’s death. The case had landed in LAPD’s lap after a connection in Austin suspected it may be drug and gang related on a broader, nation-wide scale. Tommy knows, despite the team’s assurances, Carlos still holds himself responsible for not catching on to the prank call sooner than he did. He believes he bears the civilian’s blood on his hands.

Tommy sighs. She wants Carlos to crack this case probably more than he does. She can’t bear to think how he’ll punish himself if Lynette Acosta isn’t found alive. She saw the pain in his eyes when he realised TK Strand was right and that he’d missed a crucial clue: a third person. In a split second, her decision is made. “Take Tyler Kennedy Strand with you.” She averts her gaze, shuffling some papers on her desk.

Carlos reels from her suggestion, shaking his head imperceptibly.

She doubles down. “If it wasn’t for him, we’d be nowhere. We’d still be treating Lynette as the primary suspect.” She knows it’s a low blow but if this man can help bring a mother home alive, and keep her best detective from spiralling into an endless pit of self-hate, she’ll hedge her bets.

“What is he supposed to do?” Carlos pulls his hands from his pockets, gesturing helplessly.

Tommy shrugs, “Same thing he’s been doing all morning, spot the things my detectives miss.”

The colour drains from his face. Tommy’s gut twists uncomfortably. “To be fair, I missed them too. This isn’t me blaming you.”

He swallows uneasily, nodding slowly. “Look –“ he starts but Tommy doesn’t want to waste another second. There’s a fine line between ensuring her team’s wellbeing and finding a missing person. “This isn’t a debate, Carlos.”

Carlos snaps his mouth shut.

“Always fun to see you, Nancy.” TK chirps with a sarcastic flare as he forlornly looks around the same small holding cell he feels like he only just escaped. As much as he is tired and desperate to see Jonah, he also can’t find it within himself to truly be angry at his best friend. Those cops were being dicks, and if she hadn’t said something, then he probably would have. Regardless, they were destined to end up in here.

Nancy’s glare is cutting. “Don’t start.” She shifts away from him, sliding to the opposite side of the bench.

TK’s patience is wearing thin with this place, he’s spent enough damned time here. He jumps up and stalks over to the metal bars. “Hey!” he yells at the detention officer behind the front desk who ignores him unabashedly. “How long is this going to take? Do you have any idea how expensive childcare is these days?”

“Wait, you’re paying Paul?” Nancy asks in bewilderment. “You’ve never paid me before. God knows I’ve looked after that kid way too many nights so you can get your freak on.”

TK slinks back to her, rolling his eyes. “No, of course I’m not paying Paul, but they don’t have to know that.” He drops down beside her. “And you make it sound like I’m some sort of gigolo.”

Nancy reaches up to tweak his cheek, “And what an adorable gigolo you’d make.”

The light-hearted teasing has the opposite effect on him than she desires. His shoulders slump, “Well I think it’s fair to say I’m fired from this cleaning-gig so it might come to that.”

Nancy slings an around his shoulders, drawing him in for a side hug. “I’m sorry, dude. I can see if the hospital's hiring any porters. Or you could go back to school and become a nurse. Can you imagine us working on the same ward? We’d be a dream team.”

“I couldn’t finish college the first time around, what makes you think I could survive it now that I have Jonah?” He rests his head on her shoulder. “Paul misses you by the way. We should organise a hang soon.”

Nancy plants her cheek on top of his head. “Aw, my little P-dawg. I miss him too. Takeout and game night soon, yeah?”

Before TK can answer, Detective Reyes unlocks their cell, having crept up on them without either noticing. “Nancy Gillian?”

Nancy springs up. “That’s me!”

“You’re free to go. Sign out at the front desk.” Reyes steps aside to let her past.

She hovers in the doorway, “And what about TK?”

Detective Reyes looks more fatigued than TK remembers from this morning. He reckons the same can be said for him. His eyes land on him as he answers her question, “We have a few more questions for Mr. Strand then he can go.”

“Nuh-uh,” Nancy props a hand on her hip, “I’m not going anywhere without him.”

“Nancy…” TK warns tiredly.

She shoots him a look that plainly reads ‘shut the fuck up’.

Reyes seems to consider the two then draws in a deep breath. It looks like it physically pains him to say what he says next, “The department is requesting TK's help on an ongoing case. We need to discuss the logistics with him in private. It is likely to be a lengthy process, so I’d get comfortable if you plan on waiting.”

Surprise widens Nancy’s eyes. “What?!” TK squawks. Of all the ways he expected this conversation to go, he hadn’t accounted for that.

After reassuring Nancy that she can go and quickly phoning Paul to let him know he’s going to be even longer and that he owes him big time, TK’s eyes fall on a young woman sat in the waiting room. He hesitates, taking in her tearful appearance, before he takes a seat beside her.

“Are you Letty?” he asks, despite recognising her from her photograph in the case file. She nods hesitantly. “Hey, Letty. I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened.”

She looks surprised by the sincerity of his voice, and confused by his presence. “Thanks… sorry, who are you?”

“Oh… it’s…” TK attempts to think of a way to summarise the day’s events but realises he’ll sound insane if he so much as tries. “Long story. I saw your file.”

She nods slowly and looks back down at her lap, a curtain of dark hair falling forward and hiding her face.

He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, wondering if he should just leave her be but there’s a fluency in her grief that he’s all too familiar with. “They’re gonna find your mom.” He blurts out.

Her head jerks up in surprise, and there’s anger in her voice when she says, “You can’t know that.” A few people nearby look over at her outburst. She wilts under their attention and turns to TK again, sadness quickly replacing the anger. “Sorry, everyone keeps saying the same thing: Don’t give up hope. But… my dad’s dead and now my mom is gone so what am I supposed to do?” Her eyes fill with tears.

TK inhales slowly. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Do you have any pictures of her?”

Looking relieved at the distraction, Letty pulls her phone from her pocket and navigates to the photo app. She swipes through a few before settling on a selfie. “This one she just sent me two days ago.”

TK smiles as he takes her phone, “Wow,” the woman grins at the camera, dressed chicly in a loose collared linen shirt and posing next to a large expensive looking bouquet of flowers. “She’s beautiful.”

Letty’s face crumples as she takes back her phone, “It’s the last photo I have of her.”

TK feels emotion threaten to choke him up. He reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You know what was really helpful for me, was to think of the little moments. Think of your mom’s laugh. Think about her favourite foods. You’re going to have to redirect your brain when you think about her. Otherwise, you’re just going to drive yourself crazy while you wait.”

Letty listens intently, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “You lost someone?”

TK swallows, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat. He thinks of his mom and stepdad. He remembers their Manhattan home, their smiles, their warmth. He thinks of all the times they gave him second, third, fourth chances. And he thinks how, despite all the hell he put them through, they still named him Jonah’s next of kin. Their faith in him was unwavering, and sometimes when he looks down into Jonah’s adorable and trusting face, he worries it was misplaced too. He clears his throat, “I did, yeah.” He answers softly.

“Miss Acosta?”

They both startle at Detective Reyes’ voice. TK looks up to see him straightening up from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He wonders how long he has been standing there, listening.

“Detective Marwani is ready for you.” An officer appears by his side to lead Letty away. She turns once before following, offering TK a smile that seems to say everything she can’t: thank you. Reyes walks over to TK, slowly lowering himself into the seat Letty just left. “Have you made a decision yet?”

TK stares straight ahead. After Nancy had left, the lieutenant had brought him in with Detective Reyes asking for help finding Lynette Acosta. He’d spent a morning being interrogated, judged and glared at. The last thing he felt like doing was spending the rest of his precious day helping a bunch of egotistical detectives when instead he could be at home with Jonah, building legos and eating pizza pockets. But then he’d talked to Letty. Losing one parent is awful enough but two? Not many people can bounce back from that. He should know.

Reyes sighs. “The way I see it, we’re looking at evidence tampering, assault on an officer, battery. Even if we knock it down to misdemeanours, you’re still looking at six months minimum and thousands in fines.”

TK turns to look at him in disbelief. “Did you really think this was gonna work? You’re gonna what, intimidate me into helping you? Jeopardise the custody of my kid just to get what you want?” The detective breaks eye contact, and at least he has the courtesy to look sheepish. “If you’d like my help, you should just ask me nicely.”

Reyes’ gaze swivels back to him. “A woman is missing. Please, help us find her.”

The two look at each other, time slowing down. TK remembers the pain in Letty’s eyes. He remembers taking the call that his mom was dead. And then the day after receiving the news that Enzo was declared missing. So, he nods, watches as something loosens in Carlos’ expression and replies with a small, sad smile: “You got it.”

“Thanks,” TK grins at Detective Chavez as he passes him a cup of coffee and comes to stand beside him.

“Here’s what we know,” Reyes reaches out a hand to straighten the case board. “Anthony Acosta died yesterday afternoon. Last time anyone saw Lynette, however, was two days ago at her law office.”

“Okay,” TK’s eyes search the board, “But I’m wondering who made this case board. ‘Cause this is a lot of work.” He leans forward, inspecting and appreciating the neat, detailed text.

Reyes falters, his lips parting. “I…”

“Also, I’m banned from Hobby Lobby.” TK takes a long sip of coffee.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, Reyes continues. “Their daughter, Letty, believes that one of Lynette’s clients, identified only as Sarah, wrote a letter causing significant tension between her parents. We’re going to talk to the firm but only after we interview Lynette’s sister-

“-sister because she’s the last person who spoke to Lynette, which I learned from looking at this case board.” TK interrupts, pointing towards the board before spinning around to survey the bullpen. “Also, guys, I just figured out this gentleman in the corner, he’s the one.” He points to a detective sat in the corner, typing away at his desk dutifully. “He makes the case boards.”

Chavez looks equal parts baffled and impressed, whereas Reyes is wearing his usual look of unamused, barely concealed disdain, which in the few hours he’s gotten to know him, TK reckons is a permanent fixture on his face. He slams down his cup and heads for the exit. When he doesn’t immediately hear the detectives’ footsteps following behind him, he yells over his shoulder, “Why aren’t we moving?”

Along with Detectives Chavez and Reyes, TK and Letty approach Lynette Acosta’s sister’s apartment building. Chavez and Letty step through the front door but before TK can follow, Reyes appears in front of him, blocking his path.

“Okay, let’s be very clear.” His gaze is intense, and TK can’t help but feel like a child being chastised by an adult. “You are not going to say anything, you are not going to touch anything and you are not going to do anything.”

“Right, right,” TK nods along, “I should probably be strapped in case things pop off though.”

Reyes’ face doesn’t so much as twitch, “I’m serious. Do nothing.”

TK hangs back as Letty’s aunt, Sofia, sweeps her into a bone crushing hug. “You can take my bedroom, and I’ll sleep on the couch.” She speaks softly to her niece and TK can’t help but let his eyes wander around the living room. Drifting from the group, he wanders over to the cluttered coffee table where a laptop sits abandoned amidst books and papers, a word document still open on the screen.

“Sofia, did your sister mention anyone from her professional circle who may have died of suicide recently? Someone named Sarah?” Reyes questions Sofia in the background.

“Doesn’t sound familiar.”

TK floats over to the bookcase next, idly he picks up a souvenir trinket.

“She wrote Lynette a letter. We believe something in it caused her distress.”

TK crouches down, scanning the shelves. There are a lot of tacky souvenirs. He picks up another one, twirling it between his fingers and reading the writing on the bottom: Fontana.

“Um, sorry, could you put that down? It’s breakable.”

TK looks up, realising Sofia is speaking to him. Reyes’ lips are pressed tightly together, his eyes burrowing holes into the side of his face. “She said nothing?” he asks her, gently replacing the trinket. “I mean, I get the Sarah part. Every third woman’s name is Sarah these days, but somebody writes my sister a letter, and then she offs herself.” TK makes a face, “Like, she’s probably going to say something.”

Reyes widens his eyes at him in warning.

“I don’t have a sister, but you get it.” He shrugs.

Sofia runs her eyes up and down the length of him, turning back to the detectives. “Sorry. Who is he?”

Reyes’ offers her a sympathetic smile, “He is… consulting for us. Um, when was the last time you spoke to your sister?”

Sofia still eyes TK uneasily but answers Reyes’ question promptly, “Two days ago. She called to wish me luck with my presentation.”

“You’re a biologist?” TK asks, glancing towards the laptop.

“Um, yeah,” she looks confused, following his gaze. “I had a PhD defense. It’s in front of my peers. I was nervous, and she calmed me down.” Gesturing towards the screen she asks, “You can read that from over there?”

“I only read half of it,” TK waves a hand dismissively, “Biology is boring. Is that where you were yesterday?”

“TK-” Reyes tries to butt in.

“From, like, 3pm to 5pm?”

“Stop it,” Reyes hisses.

“I’m just asking about her alibi,” he defends, letting out a small chuckle. “My goodness, you’d think he’s never done this before.” He turns to Sofia, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as if to say 'get a load of this guy'.

Reyes seethes as they ride the elevator down to the ground floor in silence. Chavez spares TK a sympathetic look as the tension thickens. They spill out into the lobby and trail behind Reyes, who charges in front. For the meantime, they’ve left Letty in her aunt’s care.

“If you can’t keep your mouth shut, please treat our witnesses with some compassion.” Reyes pushes out between clenched teeth. “Particularly grieving members of the victim’s family.”

TK rolls his eyes, jogging to keep up. “You don’t think the Sarah thing was a little weird?” They arrive at the car and he tracks Reyes movements as he reaches for a bottle of hand sanitiser from his pocket, rubbing it into his hands. “If you died today, I’m telling people, and I’ve only known you for like, five hours.”

“We have to get our hands on that letter,” Chavez pipes up, looking between the two of them.

TK points a finger at him, “Yes, exactly! Let’s do it.”

Reyes returns the bottle of sanitiser to his coat pocket, “We will ask the firm to search Acosta’s office. You will wait in the car.” He wrenches the back door open, and points into the back seat like TK’s some dog being told to sit.

TK turns to Chavez, nodding to the car. “If I get in that back seat, he’s going to lock me in the car, isn’t he?”

Reyes also turns to Chavez as if silently daring him to test his patience. Chavez winces but his honesty wins, “Probably.”

TK throws his hands up in exasperation. “What am I even doing here?! Do you want my help or not?”

Reyes slams the door shut and whirls round to meet TK’s anger face on. “You know what? No, I do not. I was acting on the lieutenant’s orders. I think this whole idea is completely moronic and I am praying that you will just quit and…”

TK turns on his heel and storms off. He throws a hand up in goodbye and they’re lucky it isn’t his middle finger.

Chavez drops his head to the side, an eyebrow quirked. “Really?”

Reyes groans, hands resting on his hips. “I know, I know.” He mutters and paces the length of the car. “Okay, let’s confirm the sister’s alibi. You go to the university, talk to her colleagues, and I’ll deal with Lynette’s firm.”

Chavez nods, “Sure thing, jefe.” He nods to TK’s retreating figure, barely visible at the end of the road. “What about him?”

Reyes’ eyes are pensive as he watches TK disappear around a corner. “Not our problem anymore.” As they clamber into the car, he feels a pang of guilt resonate in his gut. The truth is, TK has been nothing but helpful. And since clearing him as a suspect, he should be grateful that he has stuck around to continue helping them. But there’s something about him that rubs him the wrong way. Maybe it’s the way he walks into a room and without trying, commands everyone’s attention. Or his cockiness as he points out clues like they’re blatantly obvious or his team are a bunch of idiots for not realising sooner. The mischievous glint in his eye and smug smirk definitely doesn’t help. But, really, Carlos knows that none of these things should matter if it means finding Lynette. There had been a moment there, back at the station, when he’d overheard TK speaking to Letty, where he felt like he got a glimpse of the real TK. A calmer, more melancholic energy overtook him. And Carlos hates to admit it, but the man almost look hurt when he all but referred to him helping them as moronic. Which leads the detective to believe that maybe, a lot of TK’s arrogant entitlement is just for show. Something that he would know a lot about. He reverses out of the carpark and heads for the freeway, trying to push all thoughts of green eyes out of his head and accept the fact he has been unnecessarily cruel to a very well meaning civilian.

Carlos kind of wants to put his fist through a wall, so instead he sets out for the toilet, jaw clenched and shoulders taut. He crashes into the bathroom and heads straight for the sink, trying to draw in slow, deep breaths while he begins to rigorously wash his hands. As Tommy had suspected, the firm refused entry without a warrant. He had been friendly and understanding and diplomatic, reminding them that this is all for the benefit of one of their attorneys; her life is on the line. And yet he was met with a tight smile and an unbudging refusal. Come back with a warrant, he was told. A warrant he’s unlikely to get and certainly not anytime soon.

He closes his eyes and continues breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“Hello, bathroom friend!” a hand comes crashing down on his shoulder.

“Jesus!” Carlos’ eyes fly open as he startles. TK grins at him in the mirror. Carlos turns to him, incredulity written into every line of his face. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured I’d find you in here after your little meeting. Did you think that I wouldn’t notice you compulsively washing your hands like some sort of clean freak?” Carlos narrows his eyes at him and reaches over to shut off the tap and grab a paper towel. “You do know that’s a cry for help, right?”

Carlos harshly dries his hands. “You can’t be here.”

“Calm down. I found the Sarah letter.” TK reaches into his back pocket and brandishes an envelope, waving it in the air and looking far too pleased with himself.

“What? How?” Carlos snatches it from his hand.

He shrugs, “Oh, I broke into her office and took it.” TK ponders getting into how he managed to sneak into the staff room, find a janitor’s uniform and gave an Oscar-worthy performance to get into Lynette’s office but from Carlos’ shell-shocked expression, figures that story can wait. “Read the letter. Sarah Atkinson was a paralegal on the Brian Dimon case. You know, the case Zhang lost?” Carlos nods in a stupor. “And guess what? Brian Dimon assaulted Sarah also. It’s all in there. Same pattern as before. She begs Acosta to take action against her client.”

Carlos leans back against the sink as he reads over the horrifying letter that details Dimon’s assault.

“I figure, Lynette Acosta had a crisis of conscience, was going to turn on Dimon, so he did something about it.” TK rambles on. Carefully, Carlos refolds the letter and slots it back into the envelope. “We have motive! We have a serial criminal. Let’s go arrest him!”

“Stop!” Carlos shouts suddenly, his voice echoing. TK flinches and takes a step backwards. “You have no idea what you have done.” He looks confused as he watches the detective shake the envelope towards him, “We have nothing here. This letter is inadmissible. I can’t have this in my possession.”

“What?” TK stammers. “You’re going to let Brian Dimon go on a technicality?”

Carlos straightens, throwing his arms out in frustration. “No, these are not technicalities. These are laws, TK. Principles that I have devoted my entire life to protect.”

A silence descends as the two stare at each other. Eventually, TK swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he composes himself. “Jesus. I thought my life was sad.”

Carlos lets out a dry laugh. He shakes his head, raising his eyes to the ceiling before returning to TK. “This is the law,” he says in a low, measured tone. “There is absolutely nothing here that proves that Brian Dimon murdered anyone.” He takes a deep breath, trying to curb the residual anger. “And, hey, even if there was, guess what? We can’t use it in court. Because despite what you may think, we can’t run around breaking into offices and arresting people at whim. That’s not how the law works.” He thrusts the letter back at TK. “Right now, the only clear crime here has been committed by you.”

TK takes the letter hesitantly, like it may scorch him.

Carlos scrubs a hand down his face. “Okay. This didn’t happen.” He wags a finger between their chests. “You’re going to take that letter, and you’re going to put it back exactly where you found it. And if you get caught, I am going to arrest you myself.”

“Is this some sort of kink I should be aware of –“

“TK, I swear to god.”

TK sighs, the forced smirk he’d attempted dropping from his face, his eyes fall to the letter in his hand. “And then what? After I return the letter?”

Carlos considers him and appears to arrive at some sort of decision in his mind. “And then we’re going to go talk to Brian Dimon.”

TK’s eyes jump to his in surprise. And since their introduction that morning, Carlos sees the first real smile grace TK’s face. And oh, is it a sight to behold.

Despite his ranting and raving, and the vein in his neck that looked like it was ready to pop, TK thinks he may have finally earned a little bit of respect from Detective Reyes. Just a smidge. He stands on the observation side of the one-way mirror, watching as Reyes takes a seat across from Brian Dimon. Dimon for his part looks relaxed, knees casually crossed and dressed in an expensive, well-tailored suit.

“Mr. Dimon,” Reyes begins. “A few months ago, you were sued by Lishka Zhang.”

“And I won.” Dimon is quick to add, looking smug.

“Yes. She wrote to your lawyer in fact, ‘He harassed me over the course of six…”

TK looks over to his left where Chavez stands, notepad in hand, jotting down notes. “This is my first interrogation.” He says giddily. Chavez looks at him sideways, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What do we do?”

“You don’t do anything.” He assures, returning to his notes.

TK nods and watches on in silence for a few more seconds. He can hear a clock ticking from behind them. He bounces on his feet. And then unable to hide his excitement in any longer he blurts out, “Is it like a good cop, bad cop situation? You want me to go in and flip the table over?”

“Uh…” Chavez frowns. “No.”

TK hums in disappointment and tunes back into the interrogation.

“She lost the case,” Dimon is saying. “The jury saw the truth. Lishka Zhang is simply an employee with a grudge.”

TK’s lip curls in disdain as the man nonchalantly explains away the accusation.

“Those seem to follow you around.” Reyes comments. He pushes a photograph across the table. “Tell me about your relationship with Sarah Atkinson.”

Chavez reaches for the internal phone, punching in a sequence of digits.

“When do we get to hit him with a phone book?” TK wonders aloud.

Chavez looks over at him horrified. “Never. Oh, hey, Marwani. Let’s get ready for his alibi. Give me a data print on the day of the murder.”

“Oh, also, tell her I took one of her lollipops this morning and I feel really bad about it.” TK adds, leaning in to the phone’s microphone.

“I’m not telling her that –“ Chavez begins but TK smiles triumphantly when he hears a tinny ‘I heard him and, thank you!’ call out from the speaker.

“I thought I was here to help with my lawyer’s disappearance?” Dimon’s voice rises an octave. “Not relitigate old claims.”

“The Atkinson claims are not old.” Carlos combats calmly.

“Well, if there have been new claims against me, I’m not aware of them.”

“You certain?” Chavez asks down the phone. He turns to TK, “Marwani says Dimon wasn’t in town the day of the murder. Wasn’t anywhere close. He was in Fontana.”

“Fontana?” TK questions in absolute disbelief. Chavez hangs up the phone with a sigh. “The Kentucky of California? Fontucky? The hell was he doing in Fontana?”

“Doesn’t matter, he wasn’t here.” Chavez sounds defeated.

TK turns back to the interrogation room. His eyes slide over Dimon from head to toe calculatingly. Huh. “Look at his shoes. Those are Italian seams handcrafted. Look at his watch. That’s a Greyford watch. That guy is not going to be caught dead in Fontana.” TK lets out a half-deranged laugh. “There are only two reasons why you would go to Fontana. Number one, you want to catch hepatitis at the water park. Or, number two, you have to go to your cousin’s bachelorette party, and she is on a budget.”

Chavez is looking at him like he has lost his mind. “I can literally think of a hundred other reasons to go to Fontana.”

“Okay, well, ask him! Tell Reyes to ask Dimon what he was doing in Fontana.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“What? Fine.” TK brings up his two fists and bangs on the one-way mirror. “Hey!” he yells, startling both Reyes and Dimon. The mirror wobbles precariously. “Ask him about Fontana!”

Reyes looks baffled and then the lieutenant is bursting into the room, a harried lawyer trailing behind her. “Don’t say another word.” He implores Dimon.

The lieutenant shares a look with Reyes, a silent conversation that TK can’t decode. She turns to Dimon. “Mr. Dimon, thank you for your time.”

He and his lawyer file out of the room. TK turns to Chavez incredulously, “What? No!”

Lieutenant Vega slams the door shut and turns to Reyes, her eyes flashing. “The secretary at Acosta’s firm called, noted a man entering Acosta’s office who was dressed as a janitor but didn’t match the description of any their employed staff.” Vega’s eyes zone in on the mirror, her glare still somehow managing to find TK.

Carlos bursts out of the precinct, registering the footsteps rushing to catch up with him.

“Reyes!”

He speeds up, wishing for just one moment of peace.

“Reyes!” TK jogs to his side, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. “Dimon was in Fontana on the day of the murder. You have to ask him why.”

Carlos bristles. “Stop. We’re done. This entire idiotic experiment is finished.”

“No, it doesn’t make any sense.” TK implores, reaching for his forearm.

Carlos wrenches it out of reach. His voice turning venomous, “Stop pretending you can do this. It’s over.” The light slowly fades from TK’s eyes. “Be grateful you’re not in jail. Go back to your real life, TK. Leave this to the professionals.” Carlos catches the brief hitch of TK’s breath, the wounded look in his eyes before he stalks off, finally alone.

TK stumbles through the front door. He’s only just shut it behind him when the sound of thundering footsteps grows louder. “Papa-bro!” Jonah cries, crashing into his legs.

“Hey, Jojo.” TK crouches down, wrapping his arms around his small frame. He inhales deeply, the smell of their detergent and shampoo instantly loosening something in his chest. “I missed you.”

The day washes over him, and he feels a tickle at the back of his throat accompanied by the familiar sting behind his eyes. For once, he finally felt like he was helping instead of hindering. His intellect has only brought him suffering in his adult life, he was naïve to think this time would be any different; stupid for getting his hopes up. What did he expect? To crack the case before the actual detectives did? What did he want, a pat on the back? A well done? Redemption from all the shitty things he has done in the past?

Jonah begins to wriggle out of his embrace, tugging him down the hallway. “Come see what I made!”

“Hey, Paul.” TK greets him. Paul offers a gentle smile from where he’s stretched out on the rug, surrounded by lego blocks.

“Hey, man.” His eyes run over him in scrutiny. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks.” He throws himself down on the couch, not bothering to remove his shoes or jacket. “I feel like it too.”

“You want to talk about it?” he asks softly.

TK looks over to where Jonah is trying to pick up a cluster of lego blocks to bring over and pridefully show off. “I’ll fill you in later.” Slowly, he pulls himself up into a sitting position. “Seriously, though, thank you for today.”

Paul waves a hand, batting his gratitude away. “Don’t mention it.”

“I owe you, big time.”

Paul shakes his head, concern for his friend still lingering in his eyes. “You really don’t. Jonah and I had a great day. Promise. Didn’t we Jonah?”

“The best!” Jonah agrees resolutely. “Look, I made a rocket!”

“Wow,” TK holds out his hands, taking the lego creation from his brother carefully. “This is amazing Jojo!” Jonah beams up at him, and as TK leans forward to plant a big kiss on his cheek, he feels some of the tension melt from his shoulders.

“The end.” TK reads, closing the picture book. Jonah is tucked into his side, arms wrapped around his favourite stuffed animal, a penguin he bought him when they visited Central Park Zoo not long before Gwyn’s death and Enzo’s disappearance.

Jonah snuggles his head into TK’s chest. “Pretty pwease can I have one more story?”

“Jonah, I’ve already read four. It’s getting late, bud, it’s time to sleep.”

The little boy emits a noisy sigh. “Not fair.”

“I know,” TK mumbles and distractedly begins to run a hand through Jonah’s hair. They’re both quiet, TK as he gets lost in his thoughts, and Jonah as he relishes the extra time cuddling his brother. Maybe if he doesn’t move and doesn’t make a sound, TK will forget he’s here and he can sleep in the big bed with him.

TK feels panic course through his veins as he realises he’ll need to begin the job search (again) tomorrow. His dad has offered to help with money more than once, but he can’t quite bring himself to accept it. He already feels indebted to Owen, he doesn’t want to add to that. And then there’s Jonah’s inheritance but TK vowed he would never touch that, even if the going gets really rough. That is Jonah’s money and Jonah’s money alone. When he turns eighteen, he can decide what he wants to do with it. Whether it goes towards college, an apartment, or travelling around the world, TK isn’t about to take that away from him. His own inheritance had gone towards buying their house. Jonah is so young yet has already faced so much uncertainty and instability in his life. It was TK’s number one priority to make sure he had a place to call home: somewhere he could come back to no matter what.

“Are you sad because you miss mumma?” Jonah’s small voice startles TK from his thoughts.

“Oh, honey,” TK pulls him impossibly closer. When he had first assumed guardianship, TK was unable to hide his grief from his brother. Every book on parenting and grief he read had said it was healthiest to talk about the loss openly. With a start, TK realises he hasn’t mentioned Gwyn in quite some time. The realisation sends a stabbing pain through his chest. “I think I’ll always miss her.” Confused as to where the question sprung from, he asks, “What makes you think I’m sad?”

Jonah tilts his head back to look at his big brother and reaches out a finger to poke at his lips. “Your face is like this.” He pulls a face, his lips turning down at the corners and his eyebrows drawing together.

TK chuckles at how adorable he looks. “Maybe that’s just my face, huh?” He pulls a deliberately hideous face, crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out.

Jonah bursts into a fit of giggles. “Ew, stop!”

“What, you don’t like my very handsome face?” he contorts his face into a different expression, pulling his top lip back to bear his front teeth and scrunching his nose.

“No, no, no!” Jonah squeals, continuing to giggle. He hides behind his penguin, “It’s ugly.”

“You did not just call me ugly, mister. That insult is punishable by one solid minute of tickling.” TK’s fingers bury into his brother’s sides, drawing out shrieks and raucous laughter until it brings on a coughing fit.

TK relents, rubbing Jonah’s back until he settles down, his face returning to a normal colour. As their breaths even out, TK tries to coax Jonah to bed but he turns fussy, clinging to his big brother like a koala bear.

“Come on, Jonah. It’s been a long day. We’re both exhausted.”

“Pwease can I sleep with you tonight?”

“You’re a big boy now, that’s why you have your own big boy bed.”

Jonah’s bottom lip wobbles.

“Hey, what’s going on Jojo? You’ve been doing so well sleeping in your room recently. I’ve been very impressed.”

“I want to stay with you,” Jonah hiccups, his eyes watering. Guilt pools in the bottom of his stomach. “I don’t want to be alone.”

TK bundles him up into his arms, letting Jonah burrow his face into the crease of his neck. “Listen, my sweet boy. Even when we’re not together you are never alone, do you hear me? I don’t plan on going anywhere, I promise.”

“But mumma left when she got hurt very badly. And then daddy went away and didn’t come back.”

TK stills, his arms stiffening. “They didn’t want to leave you. Mom loves you so much.” He thinks of their mom, who even in her last moments before dying, made sure to push her son out of harm’s way.

“But why didn’t daddy come back?”

TK sighs deeply. Enzo’s disappearance still mystifies him. At first, those that knew him figured he just needed space to deal with his grief before assuming sole responsibility of Jonah. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, and TK’s temporary guardianship became legal adoption, TK remained baffled. The missing person case had gone cold quickly, with no leads and no trace of the man himself. But without a body, TK has to believe he is out there. Enzo had been an incredible stepdad to him; he had stepped up time and time again when Owen hadn’t been able to. He cared for, and loved, TK like he was his own. TK couldn’t believe for a second, no matter how much pain Gwyn’s death brought, that Enzo would willingly walk away from not only himself, but his biological son. It goes against everything he knows about the man.

TK chooses his next words carefully. “Your daddy loves you very much, Jonah. He used to walk everywhere with you sat on his shoulders. And he’d send me videos of you all the time. He could never stop talking about how amazing you are.”

Jonah sniffles miserably. He is too young to fully comprehend the situation and yet he hurts, nonetheless. TK wishes more than anything that he can protect him from this pain.

“I don’t know where your daddy is, or why he hasn’t come back, but I know for certain that wherever he is he still loves you so so much, okay?”

Jonah nods. “And you know I love you, right? You’re, like, my favourite person on the entire planet.”

His brother draws his head back to look into his eyes, his own wide with wonderment. “Reawy?”

Warmth blooms in his chest and he smiles down at him fondly. “Definitely. Maybe even the whole universe.”

He lets Jonah sleep in his bed with him, remaining close by his side; his soft breathing keeping him company throughout another sleepless night.

“I don’t want it!” Jonah yells grumpily, batting the fork out of TK’s hand and sending scrambled egg flying across the carpet.

“Jonah, please, can you just eat something?” TK asks tiredly, too exhausted to scold him for the mess he’s just made.

Jonah begins to thump his legs against the table; a rhythmic beat that sends an accompanying stabbing pain throughout his head each time. “Eggs are yucky. I hate them. I hate every food. Toast is yucky. Bananas are yucky…”

TK massages his temples.

“Yoghurt is the yuckiest. Apples are yucky. Grapes are yucky. Sausages are so so yucky…”

A knock sounds at their front door. TK groans, “What now.”

He answers the door, wrenching it open, ready to unleash the wrath of satan on whatever cold caller has decided to test his patience. Instead, he finds Detective Reyes standing on his front step. For a fleeting moment, TK freezes; the two men lock in some sort of silent staring contest. TK is vaguely aware that he’s dressed in ratty sweats and a faded NYFD t-shirt, his hair sticking up in about a million different directions and sporting under eye circles that rival a panda’s. Unlike Reyes, whose shirt is ironed to a crisp, his tie perfectly knotted and aligned with his collar. His pants are well-fitted, defining his legs and TK would be lying if he hadn’t noticed the way they accentuate his toned ass. Not that he has been deliberately looking. It has just… been there.  

Reyes clears his throat, “Why did you want me to ask Dimon about Fontana?”

TK regards him closely. His expression seems more open. His words are curious, without judgment or accusation. It’s not an apology but it’s probably the closest he’ll get to one.

“Come inside,” he says, returning to the dining table and leaving Reyes to follow. The door closes and he appears in the doorway, his eyes landing on Jonah.

“Orange juice is also very yucky, papa-bro.” Jonah is saying, undeterred by his brother’s brief absence and ready to resume his ted talk on all the yuckiest foods. His eyes light up as he spots the detective. “Hello, mister!” he waves enthusiastically. “I’m Jonah, what’s your name?”

TK watches in awe as an honest to goodness smile lifts the corner of Reyes’ mouth.

“Hello, Jonah. I’m Carlos. I’m…” he looks over at TK for a second and then turns his attention back to the rapt toddler, “A friend of your dad’s.”

TK moves behind the kitchen island, the open plan layout allowing him to remain close by.

“TK isn’t my daddy. He’s my big BIG brother! But I call him papa-bro because now I don’t have a mummy or a daddy. So, he’s kind of like my daddy. But he’s also my bestest friend.” Jonah babbles.

Reyes, or Carlos thanks to his brother’s intel, looks at a loss for words. In a rare moment of generosity extended towards the detective, TK decides to save him from having to respond to that.

“Okay, Jonah. Why don’t you show Carlos what a big boy you are by eating all of your breakfast?” TK grins as he watches Carlos’ face fill with regret, almost as if he can pre-emptively imagine TK using and abusing his name going forward. Jonah, for his part, grimaces at his scrambled egg and toast, torn between making TK’s life difficult and wanting to impress the new friend he’s made. Thankfully, the latter wins.

“Dimon is not a Fontana guy.” TK begins in lieu of any introduction. “More importantly, I noticed something in Sofia’s apartment yesterday. All of the little tchotchkes on her shelves were dusty except for one.” Carlos moves closer, depositing himself on a bar stool while TK begins assembling a breakfast sandwich on the countertop. He recalls the particular ceramic figurine from Sofia’s apartment in question, two hand painted frogs kissing. “Sofia was in Fontana recently. So was Dimon.”

“So what? People go to Fontana.” Carlos looks confused, but not closed off. He waits expectantly for TK to continue.

TK hums noncommittally, “Both of them?”

“What does it matter? They both have alibis for the time of the murder.”

TK frowns. This is the part that keeps tripping him up. Dimon and Sofia are definitely hiding something. And the fact that both of them were recently in Fontana is coincidence enough to raise questions. But where’s the link between that and Anthony’s murder? Lynette’s disappearance? TK rubs a hand across his brow and begins to pace the length of the counter.

“I know I’m forgetting something. It’s right there. On the tip of my tongue but…”

He squeezes his eyes shut. His mind races over every tiny detail of the case. Sofia. Sarah. Dimon. Letty…. Letty. He gasps, his eyes snapping open. “The flowers!” he cries.

“Flowers?” a line mars the centre of Carlos’ forehead.

“Yes! Ranunculus!” at the other man’s blank expression, TK rushes on. “I knew I recognised them, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until now. My dad sent me the exact same flowers after my mom died. They were beautiful but they were wilted and brown and dead after like four days.”

“TK, slow down. What flowers? What are you talking about?” Carlos asks, stretching a hand across the kitchen island to grab his attention.

“Letty showed me a photo of her mom. You know that day when she was brought in for questioning at the station? She said it was the last photo she had of her mom, that she’d sent it to her two days beforehand. In the photo, she’s posing with this big bouquet of ranunculuses.”

“I’m still not following…”

TK claps his hand, “We’ve got to go! Can you grab Jonah's car seat from the hallway cupboard whilst I get changed?”

“What? TK!”

“I’ll explain on the way!” he yells over his shoulder, running into his bedroom.

Carlos sighs and turns to Jonah, who has been sitting quietly throughout TK’s spiel, like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. “Is he always like this?” he asks.

The young boy looks unfazed as he quips, “Yup.”

“Dimon and Sofia are having an affair,” TK gestures with his hands excitedly, Jonah strapped into his car seat in the back and humming away contentedly. “He was trying to groom her like the others, but she was on board. He’s doing it to stay close to Lynette because he knows he’s guilty and he needs leverage.”

Carlos arches a perfectly poised eyebrow as he glances over at TK who is all but vibrating in the passenger seat.

“Papa-bro, can we run the siren?” Jonah asks from the back.

“Sure,” TK answers distractedly, reaching forward to flip the switch.

“No, don’t-“ Carlos is cut off by the wail of the siren, red and blue lights flashing across the dashboard. “TK.”

“It’s fine, you’re pulling up here anyway.” TK gestures to the side of the road, next to an apartment building.

“What exactly are we doing here and what does this have to do with the case?” Carlos asks wearily, peering out of the window and switching off the siren.

“It has absolutely nothing to do with the case, unless you want to bring a toddler along to a crime scene.” He unbuckles himself from his seat and hops out of the car to let Jonah out. “Aunt Nancy is going to take you to see the new Super Mario Bros movie today.”

“Yay!” Jonah cheers, pumping his fist in the air.

Carlos watches as he grabs his older brother’s hand, and they walk over to meet the woman who has just emerged from the building. He recognises her from being in the holding cell with TK yesterday. After a quick chat and hug, TK ambles back towards the car, buckling himself in. Carlos turns the ignition key, and they’re on the road again.

“So, Dimon, he learns of Lynette’s change of heart, right? He knows this is the end for him. He’s desperate now. He and Sofia go to Lynette’s house to put pressure on her. But, surprise! Her husband Anthony is there too.” TK throws his hands up, “And that is when things quickly get out of hand.”

“Okay, but again, the problem is-“

“That they both have alibis.” TK smirks at him, reading his mind. “But what if the murder didn't happen when we think it happened?”

Carlos pauses, the pieces of the puzzle slowly starting to form in his mind. TK looks at him expectantly, trepidation and adrenalin flitting across his face. Carlos takes his eyes from the road to meet TK's, struggling to keep his expression neutral as the impressiveness of TK’s deduction settles over him.

“Gnarly,” TK mutters as he skirts around the blood stain still vivid against the white of the rug. “So this is where it happened.”

Carlos nods, his eyes travelling around the room. It’s an impressive space, the photographs don’t do it justice. There’s a sky light that takes up most the of the living room’s ceiling, a real tree is planted in the centre of the room, vivaciously green. TK’s never seen anything like it. Who has a whole ass tree in their house?

TK walks around the room slowly, careful not to knock over crime scene markers. “Okay… so, Dimon and Sofia are trying to threaten Lynette.” He stops by the wall and eyes the empty gun rack.  “Noted Second Amendment enthusiast Anthony Acosta gets involved. Which turns out to be not the best decision for him…” TK walks back over to the blood-stained rug. “And now we’ve got a dead body. Which is a real kick in the nards ‘cause what are we gonna do with Lynette?”

Carlos stands to the side of the room, watching TK’s walkthrough with interest. “But how did they cover it up? Time of death was during Sofia’s presentation. All of her colleagues are there.”

TK wanders over to the flowers that were visible in the selfie Lynette sent her daughter, Letty. He prods one of them, the petal disintegrates at his touch. “Letty’s last picture of her mom was taken three days ago. These flowers were fresh and new. They should still be pink.” TK looks back at Carlos, “But they were already dead in the crime scene photos.”

Something slowly dawns on Carlos as the timeline falls into place.

“What does Dimon do for a living?” TK asks.

“Security technology.”

“And what does Sofia do for a living?”

Carlos walks over to him, “She’s a botanist.”

TK looks around the space, everything falling into place. Pointing up to the sky light, he turns back to Carlos, “Do you know what this room is?”

Carlos follows his finger, his eyes travelling up to the blue cloudless sky beyond. Then, it strikes. “A greenhouse.” He looks back down at TK, and like two children, they grin giddily at each other. TK reaches out to slap his arm in excitement. “Yes.” Carlos stalks over to the control unit he seen by the doorway. “Yes, these are state-of-the-art climate control. So, Dimon turns the entire place into one giant refrigerator.” TK watches him, nodding enthusiastically. “He freezes Acosta’s body and leaves. That night, he doctors the video, framing Lishka Zhang. The next day, he raises the temperature remotely, cooking the house and completely messing up the coroner’s time of death estimate.”

“One question remains.” TK says, circling the chair abandoned by the bloodstain. “What did they do with Lynette?”

Carlos purses his lips, deep in thought. “If they were going to kill her, they would’ve done that right here. That’s the smart move.”

TK cocks his head, “Well, maybe Sofia has a hard time with that. I mean, it is her sister, so they kidnap her, right? To buy themselves some time? But… where do they take her?”

Carlos turns to him, his voice soft as he echoes his own words back to him. “Ask Dimon what he was doing in Fontana.” And this time, TK knows it’s an apology.

He smiles at the detective, nodding. “You see, Fontana’s not that far away. It has to be relatively close. They got to get there and back in the same night.”

“And there’s no paper trail, no charges for either of them in that area. So, they’re taking her someplace secure. Someplace one of them owns.”

“Someplace they’ve been meeting up to have their little affair, perhaps.” TK suggests, combing over Sofia’s apartment in his mind’s eye. He recalls the framed photographs on her walls. Turning, he sees a more artfully hung and curated selection in the Acosta household. “Somewhere remote.” He mumbles, drawing closer to one photograph in particular. Carlos joins him, their arms brushing. “Somewhere familiar.” He taps a finger against the perspex: two young girls with their arms looped around each other stand in front of a log cabin. The same cabin he’d seen hung up on Sofia’s wall.

Carlos lets out a rush of breath, reaching out a hand to quickly squeeze his shoulder.

For once, TK listens to Carlos. He hangs back by the car as law enforcement secure the perimeter and descend upon the cabin, Carlos taking the lead. Please, let her be alive. He wishes fervently. He waits with bated breath, flashing lights painting him in splashes of blue and red. A minute passes. And then another. It’s like a hive of worker bees as officers and detectives push past him, rushing to and fro. Ten whole minutes stretch by. Then finally, Carlos emerges. TK’s heart leaps when he sees the woman tucked beneath his arm. Lynette Acosta is alive.

It's a long time spent trying to stay out of everyone’s way and doubting whether he should still be here when Carlos appears by his side. He lets out a long exhale, leaning against the car. TK offers him a small consolatory smile. Truth be told, he’s overwhelmed. This is Carlos’ turf, not his. It’s different seeing things in black and white on paper, but to witness the victim in the flesh, is jarring and overwhelming.

Carlos nudges their shoulders together. “Lynette Acosta is going to be okay thanks to you.”

TK chuckles, “I’d say it was a joint effort, wouldn’t you?”

“All I know is that we wouldn’t have connected the dots as quickly if it hadn’t been for you.”

“Me and my evidence tampering, huh? You sure you still don’t want to arrest me? You seemed awfully keen to put me in handcuffs yesterday.” TK winks at him, feeling some of the weight from the past forty-eight hours lift. Resorting to his flirtatious teasing is a relief.

Carlos lets out a surprised chortle, looking bashful as he averts his gaze. “I think I’ll let you off the hook.”

Lieutenant Vega walks over to them, and Carlos straightens to a stand. “Reyes.” She nods at him. “TK, I wondered if I could have a quick word?”

“Sure,” TK watches as Carlos leaves to give them some privacy, then his attention is drawn to Vega as she holds out an envelope.

“It’s a job offer.” She explains. TK’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Come be a consultant. Do this full time. We need you.”

He looks down at the envelope in his hands. A chance to redeem himself. A better salary than the odd jobs he’s been swinging between over the past couple of years. He takes in their surroundings, the cop cars, the ambulances. It’s reminiscent of another time. A time of turnouts and oxygen tanks and ladder trucks. It’s not the same, and yet it’s familiar enough to feel nostalgic. Reluctantly, he returns the letter to Vega’s hands.

“I’m not cut out for this.” He can remember all too well his tendency to obsess. Hyper-fixating on every casualty on a call until he determined where he or his team had gone wrong. There was nothing like the gut-wrenching realisation that a human error had led to the loss of life. He can't do it, not again. He failed once. Sleepless nights and substance abuse leading to a nervous breakdown that almost saw him dead before he was twenty-five. He didn’t care then whether he lived or died. But he cares now. He's all Jonah's got and he will not be another adult that leaves that boy. “But thank you.” His voice cracks.

Vega looks disappointed but nods in understanding, her eyes gentle. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She reaches out a hand and squeezes his arm, leaving him alone.

“Mom?” TK’s head snaps up just in time to see Letty bolt from a cop car. “Mom!”

“Letty?” Lynette rises from where she’s sat on the back step of the ambulance.

“Mom!” she cries again, and the two women meet in the middle, crashing into a hug filled with earth shattering relief and gratitude. The type of pained joy that only comes from thinking you’ve lost it all, only to be proven miraculously wrong.

By the time TK makes it back to Nancy’s, it's late and Jonah is knocked out cold.

“Just stay over, Ty. The kids zonked, and you look like you’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson.”

“Ha, ha.” He deadpans, flopping into her armchair. “This is just the effect of spending two days around law enforcement. God, they’re an exhausting bunch.”

Nancy curls up on the couch opposite him, pulling a sympathetic face. “Yikes. Out of all the first responders, you had to go with cops, huh?”

“You act like I had a say in the matter.”

“You quite literally brought it on yourself as soon as you decided to deface their board.” She reminds him, cocking an eyebrow.

He snorts, “I guess.”

She hums in agreement. TK lets his head drop back, his bones feeling ten times heavier. Nancy shifts uncomfortably, clearing her throat. “Listen, I just thought you should know that Jonah was asking about Enzo today.”

TK raises his head, meeting his friend’s concerned gaze. Dread pools in his gut. “What was he asking?”

“He wanted to know if your police friends could help find him. He says he’s worried that he won’t be able to find you because he doesn’t have your new address.” She recalls, her voice gentle.

TK sighs, feeling the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. “God, Nance, I don’t know what to do.”

Nancy pats the spot beside her, “Come here.”

He shuffles over to her, letting her pull his head into her lap. Soothingly, she begins to card her fingers through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing by telling him he’s missing. Like am I giving him false hope? The detectives seem to think he's dead. But I…” he falters. “I don’t know that I believe that. Not without a body. How can I tell Jonah his dad is dead if there’s even the tiniest possibility he’s out there somewhere?”

Nancy hums sympathetically. “Honestly, babe? I don’t think there’s a right or wrong way to handle this. It’s a really shitty situation and you’re trying your best.”

A tear leaks from the corner of his eye, dropping onto Nancy’s knee. She’s nice enough not to comment on it. “I just worry I’m fucking him up.” He whispers, the confession hanging suspended in the air.

“Oh, TK.” Nancy leans down to press a kiss to his temple. “You are bringing up that boy with so much love. He is lucky to have you. Please tell me you know that?”

He sniffles miserably, choosing to ignore her pointed question. “As he gets older, he’s going to have a lot more questions that I'm going to need the answers to.”

“I know, I know.” she rubs his arm comfortingly, letting the dam burst.

The next morning, after dropping Jonah off at preschool, TK rides the bus across town. He walks with purpose as he bypasses reception and heads straight for the bullpen. He catches the shared look of surprise that flashes across Reyes, Chavez and Marwani’s faces but he doesn’t stop. Thankfully, Lieutenant Vega is in her office when he raps on the door. He doesn’t wait for an answer, striding in and closing the door behind him.

“I want a raise.” He says, standing before her desk. She places the file she was reading down, fixing him with her full attention. “Add 30% to your offer. No, scrap that, add 20% and childcare. You figure that part out.”

The corner of Vega’s mouth twitches. “Is that it?”

TK takes a deep breath. “If I work for you, you work for me too.” Vega raises an eyebrow and waits. TK wills for his hands to stop shaking. “I need you to find someone. His name is Enzo de la Costa. And he vanished two years ago. The police say he either skipped town, but I know that he didn’t, or that he’s dead but without any leads, they can’t find his body.” TK’s voice wobbles. “So, I need help.” He blinks rapidly. “Please, help me find him. Dead or alive, help me bring him home.”

Vega rises from her chair slowly, her eyes glistening. “You got a deal.”