The squad room was colder than usual as Ray winked at Francesca. "Hey Frannie," he said as he passed and noticed Fraser sitting next to his desk. "Hey, Fraser, what’s shakin’?"

"Shaking?" he enunciated.

"Yeah," Ray replied. "Shakin’." He paused and looked the Mountie up and down. "What’s going on in your world," Ray clarified.

"Ah," Benton said, adding a nod. "Shaking." He processed the information and looked up at his anxious partner. "Leftenant Welsh wanted to tell you what’s shaking," he replied, seeming proud of his new word usage.

Ray glanced into Welsh’s office and saw the Lieutenant behind his desk, a jovial grin on his face. As Ray looked about the room for the cause of the smile, he saw the figure of a woman. Moving a step sideways so he could see past a notice taped to Welsh’s window, he squinted to peer through the blinds. Just then, the feminine figure turned. First he was caught by the flash of dark auburn hair flipping from her face, then he noticed the dark emerald eyes looking back at him.

Smiling just enough to show his dimples, Ray straightened and so did the woman. She turned back to Welsh and Ray turned to Fraser. "Whoa. Who’s the hottie with Welsh?"

Fraser turned to look through the window. "What is a ‘hottie’?"

"Fox, babe…" he said just as the door opened.

"Babe? Ah, you mean the lady with whom he is conversing? I believe he wants to discuss that with you."

"You know something?" Ray asked, but was quickly interrupted by Welsh.

"Vecchio, my office now."

Welsh returned to his desk as Ray passed through the office door. He watched the woman stand back from the door to let him in and noticed as her head turned that there was a hidden streak of oddly coloured hair. It appeared to be a purple streak. He put on a boyish grin as he stepped into the room. "Lieutenant, if this is about that guy I was interrogating, he had that cut on his lip before I got in there. Don’t let him tell you different."

Welsh rolled his eyes. "This is Detective Brooks, Vecchio."

Ray turned and held out a hand. "Detective?"

"Yes. They let us solve crimes now," she said sarcastically.

Ray’s hand dropped and he furrowed his brow. "Uh, nice to meet you," he began, then added under his breath, "I suppose." Ray crossed to the couch and flopped into it. "Want me to show her the ropes or something?"

Welsh feigned a smile and folded his hands. "Not exactly," he replied.

Ray straightened in interest.


"Brooks will be your new partner," Welsh added after a moment silence.

Jumping to his feet again, Ray approached the desk. "Partner? I don’t need a partner. I got Fraser."

"Fraser is not actually a member of this department which means, technically, you do not have a partner. She was assigned here by the folks upstairs. You’re the only detective in my division without a partner so you get her."

She broke in, a little offended. "Excuse me, sir, but it’s not like he’s stuck with some rookie, ya know. I’m very experienced. I would prefer to think of me being stuck with him."

"I can’t believe this. What kind of crap are you pulling on me?" Ray asked, gesturing with both hands. "Me and Fraser been working together for months, not to mention," he stopped himself and glanced at her, then looked very seriously into Welsh’s eyes. "Not to mention the other thing."

"Sorry, Detective Brooks, you’re quite right," Welsh said, bypassing Ray’s comments. "It appears I need a few moments with Detective Vecchio to baby his ego. Would you excuse us?"

"Yeah, go stand next to the red guy." Ray pointed two fingers through the window. "We’ll have this straightened out real quick-like."

Brooks looked exasperated as she picked up the motorcycle helmet that had been sitting on Welsh’s desk. She threw it casually under her arm and opened the door. Ray closed the door behind her and turned back to Welsh. "Ok. I get the part where they make you take this chick for… whatever reason. She may very well be a good cop, but why do I have to baby-sit the newbie?"

"What’s so confusing, Detective? I told you she is your partner. That’s it. Take good care of her."

"But I’m fine without a partner."

"Yes, you are. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s here, though, does it? Look, truth is, Captain Walsh at the 8th asked me for a favour. I owe the guy. I’ve seen her records. She gets the job done, but she needs a little time with someone who’ll keep an eye out for her."

Ray threw his head back and grunted. "See? I’m a babysitter."

"That’s not what I mean by keeping an eye out for her," Welsh said firmly.

Ray looked back to Welsh, intrigued. "Oh?"

"You’re just going to make sure everything goes the way things are supposed to go, got it? Like I said, she’s good at the job so you just work and let her be a partner and that’s the end of it."

"The real Ray never had a partner," Ray groaned.

Welsh slapped his palm on the table in exasperation. "I am fully aware of you’re capabilities, Detective, but I’m not going to let you change my mind on this one."

"Does she know about the real Ray stuff?"

"No she doesn’t and we aren’t going to tell her."

"What happens if..."

"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now get out there and do some detective work with your new partner, Vecchio. Huey and Dewey are staking out an apartment. Francesca has the information you need to take over for them. Get out of my office."

Ray grunted. "This sucks." He opened the door.

Welsh watched from his office as Ray walked to his desk, rubbing his forehead between his thumb and fingers. "Well, Detective Brooks, I guess we’re partners. Get me a cup of coffee."

She folded her arms in front of herself. "Oh, excuse me. Are your arms painted on? If you want coffee, get it yourself."

Fraser controlled a smile. Ray noticed. "What’d you come here for, Fraser?"

"Ah, I was given the rest of the day off from the Consulate so I wondered if I could be of any assistance to you."

"Oh, I guess. We have to go take over a stakeout for the Duck Boys." Ray looked up. "Frannie! Do you have the stuff Welsh asked for?"

"Yes, Ray, I’m not completely incompetent. It’s on your desk." She began walking toward his desk as he looked down.

"Where? I can’t see it."

She picked up a file and pulled out a cream coloured folder. "It was on your desk before you put that file on it. Pick something up to look around once in a while."

Ray squinted. "Look, Frannie, I…" he pointed a finger at her as she walked away. She waved with her hand and Ray knew there was no point in continuing.

Ray opened the folder and began to pull faces. "Ok, let’s blow this place."

"What’s going on?" Brooks asked.

"Nothin’"

"Look, buddy, I…"

"All right, all right. Don’t get worked up. Here." He handed her the file and she read as she followed Ray and Fraser out of the squad room. Diefenbaker was close behind.

Brooks didn’t even look up as she motioned to Fraser. "And this gentleman is involved…?"

"Oh, excuse me. My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and for reasons that don’t really need exploring, I remained attached as a liaison to the Canadian Consulate."

"Fraser helps out on cases involving Canadians, or wherever else he feels like sticking his nose in."

"Ah," Brooks commented and continued reading as they passed through the doors to the parking lot. Finishing the file, she handed it back to Ray. "I’m heading home first, pick me up there. I need to pick up a few things before we go." Throwing the helmet on her head, she aimed herself directly toward a black motorcycle in the lot.

"Huh?" Ray asked, confused.

"I thought for sure I’d end up on desk duty. I’m not exactly prepared. I just need to go home and change and grab a couple things, ok?"

"Fine, whatever," Ray replied with a wave. "Address?"

"One ninety eight Poppy apartment eight b."

"All right, we’ll see you there," Ray breathed.

Hopping onto the bullet bike she headed out before Fraser and Ray were even in the car. Ray frowned and glanced at Fraser. "Looks like a challenge."

Fraser looked confused until Ray threw the car into reverse and slammed the accelerator, then the brake while whipping the wheel the appropriate direction. Fraser held tight to the dashboard as Ray moved the gear into drive and slammed the accelerator again.

***

Pulling her hair back into a braid, Brooks heard a knock at the door. Taking the elastic from her mouth, she held it in her fingers as she continued.

"Ray?"

"Yeah!"

"It’s unlocked." She went into the bedroom and closed the door almost completely so they could still talk. She heard the door open and footsteps.

"Are you sure leaving your door unlocked is such a great idea?" Ray asked

"Probably not, but…" she let the sentence trail off. "Fraser there too?"

"Yes." Ray replied.

"Ok. You two make yourselves comfortable."

Fraser stood against the wall next to her couch and held his hat in the crook of his arm. Ray started looking around the apartment. He looked up and saw her whiz past the door, then he went back to looking his inventory. Noticing a large collection of CD’s next to a large stereo, he observed that she had many things in her collection that were the same as in his own, plus several he would never have dreamed of owning. He noticed she had a wide variety of tastes and began to walk around the room.

Stopping at the far wall, he furrowed his brow. There, hanging on it was a standard bullet proof vest which had been shot at in three places. "What’s this?"

"I can’t see," Brooks said, amused. "What?"

"The vest?"

There was silence for several minutes before she answered. "Oh, that. Uh, nothing." She came out in long pants and a shirt that came just to her waist so that, when she stretched out to pick up her bag, her midriff was bare. Ray turned just in time to notice a tattoo. It was of a sun with long wobbly rays around her navel which had a ring. She opened the bag and began throwing things inside. He also noticed another tattoo. It was on her arm and portrayed a fairy with butterfly wings stabbing a small blue dragon.

"So, how many tattoos to you have?"

She looked up with an unanswering smile and he noticed that the purple streak was more noticeable in the twists of hair. "So, explain the vest?"

She kept the smile and glanced at the door. "I’m ready. The rest of the equipment in the car?"

"Actually, Huey and Dewey already have things set up, but we’re ready."

She picked up the bag and swung it over her shoulder. "Let’s go then."

***

The three of them grabbed their things from the trunk of Ray’s car and headed up to the apartment. Huey and Dewey were playing cards when they entered. "Oh good. We’re outta here." Huey said. "Nothing’s new yet. He hasn’t been home since we got here."

Dewey stopped and eyed Brooks. "Who’s this?"

Huey chuckled. "Ray’s new partner."

"You knew?" Ray asked and only received more interference from Dewey.

"New partner?" he asked with a chuckle. "What’d you do wrong to get left with a new partner?"

"Excuse me?" Brooks asked.

"I dunno," Ray interjected. "What’d Huey do to get stuck with you? Must’ve been pretty bad."

Dewey looked unamused. "Very funny." Huey could see the tension and grabbed his partner, taking him through the door before more could be said.

"See ya," Ray replied, waving an irritated hand behind them as they left. "Ugh. It’s going to be a long night, I’ll bet."

Brooks took a seat near the window and looked out. "It’s that one, right?"

"Yeah," Ray replied as he sat at the table with Fraser. "So, what do you say? Ready for pizza?"

"Could you get me something with pineapple?" Brooks asked as she leaned into the scope to get a look at the room they were observing.

Ray smiled and pulled out his phone.

***

Several hours later they were still watching an empty room. There was an empty pizza box and two half eaten containers of Chinese food on the small table next to the bed. Ray rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "I don’t think this guy’s coming back. It’s almost morning."

"Calm down, Ray. This is where Welsh told us to be so let’s just give it some time." Brooks turned and saw Fraser had leaned back on the bed and fallen asleep.

Ray looked away and silence fell again until curiosity got the better of him. "So what was with the bullet proof vest?"

Brooks looked away. "Nothing."

"Come on. I know you want to tell me. You have the thing on your wall like some shrine or something. I know there’s a story."

"I really don’t want to talk about it." She straightened in her seat and stretched, again revealing her midriff. "Hey, ever been married?"

"I don’t want to talk about it." He sighed and looked away.

Silence fell.

"Her name was Stella. I really loved her. Still do. She’s amazing." He paused and saw her watching him, intrigued. "I wanted to have kids, she didn’t." He saw her nod, understanding. "Anyway, it’s not that interesting."

She nodded again and silence filled the room.

"So what brought you to us?" Ray finally asked.

"Uh," she let out a long breath. "I just didn’t want to be where I was. I needed to get away."

"That simple?"

She let silence build once again, then took another deep breath. "Yeah, that simple."

"Really? Because I could have sworn Welsh let it slip that you did something."

"What?" she asked, horrified.

"Ok, maybe he didn’t, but no one transfers to the 27th from the 8th for the hell of it."

"I did."

"Why?"

"For the hell of it." She looked at him, then turned back to the window. She could feel his eyes boring into her and she hated it. Finally letting out a breath, she glanced at her feet. "I killed a guy."

"You killed a guy?" Ray was floored. He took his chair close to Brooks so their knees were near each other and leaned toward her.

She cleared her throat. "He drew a weapon and I fired at him. I was only planning to wound him, but…"

"Did he fire at you?"

She nodded. "I, uh, I got hit in the shoulder with his fourth shot just as I fired my shot, that’s why I missed and killed him. He hit me three times in the chest before I even fired. If it wasn’t for that vest…"

"Ah, so that’s the story. But shouldn’t the vest have been kept in evidence or something?"

"Well, yeah, but once we had firm proof from the ballistics with the tape to determine that his shots were fired before mine and it was justified, I stole it from evidence lockup."

"How did you…?"

"I sneaked in, put it on, and walked out. Look, I’m not very happy about it now, but that vest reminds me every minute that I almost died. There wasn’t even a good reason to put it on that day. I just had a feeling and... I don’t want to talk about it."

"A feeling?"

She looked away. "So let me get this straight. This Bob fellow is suspected of murdering his wife. If we see him, he’s under arrest, right?"

"Yeah, but it would sure help if we found more evidence. We can’t search the hotel room until we’re sure that’s the one Bob is staying in. He’s been very hard to find since his wife was killed."

"So we’re actually only taking him in for questioning?"

"Basically."

She nodded and looked though the binoculars. "I think there is something fishy here."

Ray put on his glasses and looked through the telescope. "What’s fishy?"

"See the box on the nightstand?"

"Yeah, it’s a very plain box."

"There’s something about it."

"Huh?" Ray regarded her like a rookie and glanced behind him. Fraser was awake now, though now he was looking out the window in deep concentration on a subject obviously different from the one they were dealing with.

"It’s a feeling. Something in that box…" Brooks peered through the scope and examined the details of the box.

Ray nodded. "Well, it looks very plain to me."

"Look around the room, Ray. He’s living out of a suitcase. See over by the wall? I’d bet that little leather bag is for his razor and toothbrush and stuff, but even it is being kept on top of the suitcase. The only thing that is out is that box."

"So what? It’s just a box."

"Your wife just got murdered and you haven’t been home since. You left a note that said you were leaving her." She went over the details out loud for her own clarity. "You pack a few clothes and things and set up at a hotel. You keep your stuff close to the suitcase in case you have to make a quick getaway. Either that or you’re a clean freak. You leave a box on the nightstand, taking a chance it may be forgotten. Why?" She bit her lower lip in concentration.

"I don’t have time for these games."

"Do you keep a box on your nightstand?" she asked.

"There’s probably one under the other stuff on my nightstand."

Brooks let out a breath. "Ok, just go with me on this one. If you had something important in a box, there wouldn’t be much danger of forgetting it, right?"

"Then he’d leave it in the suitcase."

"Unless it’s something he has to get rid of. Something that requires phone calls, something…" She picked up the report and read over it. "The killer has her wedding band and stole some jewelry, but not the valuable stuff." She looked through the scope. "The stolen jewels are in there."

"That’s crazy," Ray scoffed.

"Actually it isn’t, Ray," Fraser broke in finally. "Putting something valuable in a plain box would seem a good way to keep the items safe without drawing attention. Perhaps he is planning to pawn the jewels, as a thief would do."

"And then get the hell out of Dodge," Brooks completed.

Ray smiled at them. "You’re both crazy."

"What do your instincts tell you, Ray?" Fraser asked.

"Uh…"

"It’s perfectly logical. The guy’s not that smart to begin with. It makes sense," Brooks added.

"So how do we prove it?" Ray leaned back in his seat.

"Well, I guess we wait. I mean, we gotta know the guy’s staying here before we can really speculate anything."

"Ok, maybe that’s my point. We don’t know anything to make assumptions," Ray stated.

Brooks tipped her head and glanced at Fraser. "We should keep our minds open, but not at the risk of missing something obvious."

Fraser nodded. "Correct. We’re not making hasty decisions, we’re just working with a hypothesis."

Ray shook his head. "You two are crazy. It’s crazy."

"Maybe," Brooks replied under her breath. "I need to make a phone call." She stood and picked up Ray’s phone from the table. "You mind?"

Ray waved his hand and shook his head, then watched her walk into the hallway. He turned, then, to Fraser and offered him Brooks’ seat. Fraser took it and Ray realized how close he had been to her, now taking a moment to move his seat back, but still keep close enough for confidence. "You know about this, Fraze?"

"Know about what?" Fraser asked.

"Her. My partner. You said back at the precinct that Welsh wanted to discuss it with me. You knew? Jack knew, but Dewey didn’t."

"I never engage in gossip," Fraser replied.

Ray looked confused. "What does gossip… Oh," he said with realization. "It was gossip that you heard without meaning to hear it?"

"Not exactly. I’d been waiting for you for several minutes when Francesca mentioned Detective Brooks transfer papers to me. She had apparently mentioned it to Detective Huey before he left because he had asked her whose partner she would be. Francesca asked me who she thought Leftenant Welsh would pair her with or would he let her work alone. I chose not to speculate, but the Leftenant told Francesca in my presence to make the arrangements for her to be your partner."

"So passing it on would have been gossip. Right," Ray confirmed, then let out a sigh. "What do you think of her?"

Fraser looked pensive. "She seems nice. Competent. Professional."

"Sure, but what do you think of her?" he asked again, this time adding an eyebrow trick and a suggestive grin.

Fraser cocked his head and Ray shook his own. "Never mind."

Brooks re-entered the room and handed the phone to Ray.

"Who’d you call?" he asked immediately.

Pausing a moment, Brooks decided to share. "Francesca is running some numbers on the value of the stolen jewelry."

"Why?"

"So we’ll know whether to ask around at a pawn shop or a money launderer?" she stated in the form of a question. "It’ll just give us a head start if this guy tries to sell the stuff." Detective Brooks picked up a soda can and took a sip.

Ray nodded. It made sense and had been a good move, though he chose not to tell her that. Glancing at his watch, he stood and stretched his arms. "Only 10 minutes to go before someone will be here to relieve us, right?" he said, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "Nothing’s going to happen tonight at least."

Brooks set the can down and moved quickly to the scope. "Try again," she said.

Ray turned to the window and Fraser joined in peering out. A light flicked on in the room across the street. The husband sauntered in looking little like the photo in the file. Instead of a clean cut smile, he had a two day growth on his beard, bags under his eyes, and wore a wrinkled tee with very wrinkled dress pants. He walked straight to his suitcase and took the small leather bag, then went into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, he came out. With the door to the bathroom left open, they could see he had left toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a comb beside the sink. He took the now empty bag and walked over to the table. His back faced the window as he picked up the box. They watched silently as his shoulders moved around. His arms were moving back and forth, but they couldn’t tell what he was holding. Finally he set the box back on the table and went back into the bathroom. Taking a moment to contemplate, he finally wiped a backhand across the counter, pushing the items into the garbage. He came out, put on his jacket, and slid the leather case inside before leaving the room.

Ray ran out first, Brooks close behind. Soon Fraser and Diefenbaker had passed Brooks and Ray. They stopped as they saw Bob exit the hotel.

"Now what?" Ray asked. "Should we follow him?"

Bob reached into his jacket and Brooks stiffened. "No time," she said just as she darted from the group, running as hard as she could into Bob. In one move, she fell to the ground and pulled out her gun as Bob smacked against the cement, sending the bag flying from his hand as he was taking it from his jacket. As if in slow motion, the bag fell next to the curb. It opened as it hit the ground and the jewels flew everywhere.

Ray cuffed Bob as Brooks recited his rights. Fraser collected the jewels -- including a small, gold wedding band -- and put it all back in the bag.

***

Brooks and Ray glanced at each other occasionally as they typed their accounts of the arrest. It was an unspoken race between the two and Brooks won. She had typing skills, though minimal, which already gave her the advantage over Ray and as she headed to Welsh’s office, printout in hand, Ray stopped in midsentence, typed THE END, and pounded the keys. Finally he looked to Frannie who came to the rescue, printing it in seconds.

When he entered Welsh’s office, Brooks was already seated in front of his desk bowing her head. Welsh looked a bit disturbed and set her report on the desk before looking up at Ray. Handing the paper to Welsh, who skimmed it, Ray then stepped back beside Brooks.

"It’s not even finished," he said.

"Who cares. You’ll sign it and slip it in that little file cabinet and no one’ll ever see it again anyway."

Welsh pursed his lips, signed the paper, and set it aside. "An interesting tactic, Detective," Welsh said in a serious tone to Brooks. "But I don’t want to see that kind of thing come through here again. We’re not vigilantes, we’re police officers."

"Yes sir," she replied.

"Ready to go?" Ray asked.

Brooks leaned back and looked up at Ray with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"Go? Home? End of work day, whistle’s blowing. Come on," Ray replied.

"Uh, oh yeah, you drove me," she said, realization finally hitting her. "I guess now’s as good a time as any."

"Before you go, stop in on the interrogation and give this to Huey," Welsh said, handing over a file.

"Sure," Ray responded, reaching for the folder. He tucked it under his arm and opened the door, letting it close on Brooks.

"Thanks, Ray," she groaned under her breath as she opened the door to follow him.

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Ray motioned to Fraser who was now sitting beside his desk.. "C’mon, Fraser. Let’s get you back to the Consulate." Picking up Fraser’s hat without slowing down, he kept walking.

"Oh, thank you kindly," he replied, moving to his feet.

As they walked toward the interrogation room, Brooks began to make conversation. "So, you’re a Mountie? Where’s your horse?"

"In Canada, ma’am."

"Well, that isn’t very handy, is it?" she said with a grin.

"Not particularly, no."

Ray stopped in front of the door and carefully opened it. "’ere, guys. Welsh told me to bring this to ya."

"Thanks, Ray."

He popped back out and found he had missed part of the conversation.

"…well, there is an interesting anecdote about that, actually. You see, the Inuit believe…"

Ray looked back and forth between them. "What is this, what are you guys doing?"

"We’re getting to know each other, Ray. Take a chill pill."

"Hey, don’t say chill pill to me. I’m the one who decides who needs a chill pill." He turned away. "You need a chill pill," he finished under his breath.

Brooks rolled her eyes and continued walking out of the squad room. "What’s the matter, Prince Valiant, jealous?"

Ray looked at Fraser and gave his signature grunt. "She’s already under my skin Fraser. Better make sure I don’t shoot her."

They got out to the car and Brooks took the passenger seat. "Boy, you’re just a big baby, aren’t you?"

There was only an instant of silence. "Who, me?"

"Yes. You’ve had a chip on your shoulder since I got here, haven’t you? Is this all because I’m a woman?"

"Pft, huh, pft, of course not."

"Then what?

Ray mumbled to himself and started the car. Other than the engine, there was no sound. Finally Diefenbaker whimpered and Fraser leaned over.

"Yes, it is an uncomfortable silence, but I don’t believe it is something we should interrupt." Diefenbaker whimpered again and laid down.

"It’s a beautiful wolf, Constable," Brooks commented.

"Call me Fraser. Yes he is."

"It’s a wolf, Brooks, a wolf. They aren’t beautiful or not, they’re wolves. They eat people." Ray leaned his elbow out the window.

"Now, Ray, you know perfectly well they don’t eat people." Diefenbaker lifted his head again, then went back to sleep after Fraser spoke.

"Ray, you’re being a moron," she accused. "I just wanted to break the silence."

"Well, I don’t want to hear any more from you." Ray waved his hand and put it back on the steering wheel.

"You know, Ray, this reminds me of when I was in the far north and…"

"If this story has a bear or an otter in it, stop talking."

Fraser opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.

"Anybody else want to eat?"

Fraser offered a quick, "Yes, please."

Brooks shrugged. "Don’t care."

Ray grunted and turned into the parking lot of the nearest restaurant. Without asking preferences, Ray slid into a booth and Fraser waited until Brooks took the opposite side before scooting in beside Ray. Picking up the menu, Brooks began to browse. Ray tapped his fingers impatiently.

"Problem?" Brooks asked without looking up, obviously perturbed.

"Hurry."

"Don’t rush me."

"Hurry," Ray said with more agitation.

"Look, I’ve never eaten here."

"Well, I know what I want, why don’t we just order three?"

"No." Brooks looked up from her menu.

"Why not? They’re all basically the same; beef, lettuce, and a bun with a side of fries."

"I want to pick something myself. I am an adult. I can order, you know."

"Whatever. You know what you want, Fraser?"

"Yes, I believe so," Fraser said quickly, feeling as though he’d be left behind in conversation if he didn’t reply quickly enough.

"Ma’am!" Ray called.

"That is so rude. You know I’m not ready," Brooks gazed at him, piercing through his tough exterior.

The waitress approached. "I want a burger. Nuthin’ fancy," Ray said quickly, ignoring the fact that her look was disturbing his concentration.

"Ray," Brooks continued. "You are such a child. Can’t you wait a minute?"

"Order, Fraze."

"Well I’m not sure Detective Books is…"

"Fraser, order."

"…ready to…"

"Fraser, what are you getting?"

"…It isn’t polite to…"

"Well, then, tell me what you want."

"I was planning to order the special, but I’d prefer to wait until…"

"He’ll have the special and if she doesn’t order now, she’s not eating."

"Hello! What am I? Eight? Don’t talk about me like I’m not here! You are walking a thin line with me, buddy. You better watch to make sure I don’t poison your food." She turned to the waitress. "First off, could you spit on his burger? I’ll have the chef salad, but no red onions or radishes. Could you bring the dressing on the side?"

"Certainly." The waitress smiled, scribbled, and walked away.

Brooks glared at Ray. "Happy?"

"Extremely."

"Dopey," she said under her breath.

"What? Did you call me a dope?"

"No. I said dopey. I’m just naming dwarves."

Ray grunted.

"Forgive me, Constable, but I’m terrible with names. Was it Benjamin Fraser?"

"Benton."

"Isn’t that a last name?" she said as more of a statement than a question.

"It’s my first name."

"Hmm. Sounds like a last name."

"And what is your first name, Detective Brooks," Fraser asked as he brought a glass of water to his mouth.

"Tori."

"Tori? What a silly name," Ray added, waiting for her too argue.

"It’s short for Victoria."

Fraser coughed and spit out some water, then grabbed a napkin and quickly dabbed around the table. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry."

"It’s ok," Brooks replied as she dabbed some water from her face.

Fraser blushed a little and Ray laughed hysterically. He collected himself just enough to say, "I’m sorry, Fraze, but I’ve never seen anything so funny. You’ve never done anything like that before." He snickered and continued. "What was that all about?"

Fraser stood. "Excuse me, I have to go – this way – for a moment."

Ray continued to laugh, tapering off slowly. Brooks cleaned up the table and finished by straightening the salt and pepper shakers, then centering the napkin holder. Ray watched with interest. "A little anal?"

Brooks ignored him and began to read the ads posted on the windows by their table.

Fraser returned behind the waitress carrying the food. Following that, most of the meal was eaten with either silence or conversation through gritted teeth. Everyone concentrated on their food and they left quickly after eating. Ray left the restaurant and looked at Diefenbaker who was eyeing another dog on a leash. Fraser held the door for Brooks.

Ray leaned against the car, waiting for Brooks and Fraser to catch up. "C’mon you guys."

"What’s the rush?" Brooks said in a nasty tone.

"I’m just tired of waiting around for you. If you had your way, we’d be here all day."

"Why don’t you just shut up?"

Fraser opened the car door for Diefenbaker.

"Because this is more fun," Ray continued.

"You are such a pain," Brooks replied, waving her hand.

Ray grabbed her hand in the air. "Hey, don’t dismiss me like that. You have problems."

"I’m hardly the one with problems." She pulled her hand away and held the door while Fraser climbed in. Once he was safely inside, Ray pushed the door closed.

"Why don’t you take a flying leap?"

"What’s wrong with you? Learned all your insults in kindergarten?" she continued.

"Boy, you are just nuts, aren’t you!" He stood a step closer to her.

"Would you please tell me exactly what your problem is?" she firmed her stance and moved a stiff forearm in front of her chest. "I mean, I really haven’t done anything…"

"Look," Ray continued as he crowded her against the car. "I didn’t ask for a partner and you’re some tough girl who’s not as tough as she thinks. You’re crazy to think I’m falling for the tomboy routine."

"You don’t know anything about me, alright?" She tried to back away, but was against the car door so she couldn’t go far. "Besides," she began more defensively. "What do you call that gutsy move of running down our last criminal?"

"I call it a fluke. Running him down was the chicken way out. Just look at you. You’re kind of wimpy looking." Fraser could see the argument was heating up so he tried unsuccessfully to climb over Dief and get out from the other side of the car.

Brooks grabbed Ray’s shirt firmly and flipped him against the hood of the car so his feet weren’t touching the ground. He held his hands back, open in surrender, with his usual grin. "Ok, ok, things are getting a little heated."

"Heated! You haven’t seen me pissed yet, bubba! How dare you insult my very being, my professionalism, how dare you spout things you know nothing about!"

"All right. Let me go."

"And another thing, buddy, I am a damn fine cop!"

"All right." He was beginning to shout. "I don’t want to hit you."

"Why, because I’m a woman?"

"Well…" he said, trying to break free, but having no success.

"Hit me! I can take you! I’m not a coward and I am not a wimp!" Brook yelled into his face.

"I don’t…" His face began to redden and he tried to push her back.

"Go on. Prove you’re a man! HIT ME!" Fraser finally scrambled through the drivers door of the car.

All at once Ray turned his hand into a fist and threw it full force against her face. She fell back to the ground and Fraser rushed around the front to help her up, but she was already on her feet. Ray stood, challenging her. She ran toward him, but Fraser grabbed her, turned, and stood between the two.

Brooks cradled her jaw and opened her door, throwing Ray a threatening glance.

Fraser wanted to calm things. "I believe that…"

"Shut up, Fraser," Ray and Brooks said in unison.

There was more silence as they pulled out onto the road.

Ray saw a stop sign. He wanted Brooks out of the car as fast as he could so he looked up and down the crossing streets. When he knew it was clear he decided not to slow down. Fraser couldn’t hold his tongue. "Stop sign, Ray."

"I thought you were going to stop talking."

"Yes, but I didn’t think that would still apply when you’re about to disrespect a law."

"All right. Where’s the stop sign?"

"You just passed it," Brooks interjected.

"Then why are you telling me? I can’t stop if I already passed the sign."

"Well, you hadn’t passed it when I first mentioned it," Fraser added.

Ray chuckled.

"What’s so funny? You broke a law," Brooks continued.

"Oh, c’mon. I’m just having a little fun with the Mountie."

"I should arrest you," she said.

Ray scoffed. "It’s just a stop sign."

"But that was no reason to disobey the law or talk to Fraser like that."

"I’m sorry. See that stop sign? I promise to come to a complete stop and…"

"It doesn’t change the fact that you treated Fraser, your friend, in such a nasty way."

"It’s all right," Fraser said from the back seat.

"No it’s not. He ought to apologize."

"Well, I suppose that would be the chivalrous thing to do in this situation," Fraser said.

"Chivalrous? What is that? What is that language you use?" Ray smacked the steering wheel for emphasis.

"Why, it’s English, Ray. It means noble – or courteous," Fraser explained.

"If I promise not to spread my negativity will you two stop talking?" Ray said, holding his head.

Fraser nodded. Diefenbaker whimpered and closed his eyes. Finally they pulled up in front of the Consulate.

"I guess I’ll catch you tomorrow," Ray said.

"Yes," Fraser replied. "Perhaps later today, but it appears I’m late for a meeting with some Canadian officials." Fraser stepper out. "I see they’ve already arrived. She’ll have my head."

"Ice Queen?" Ray asked

"Inspector Thatcher, yes," Benton replied.

Ray rolled his eyes. "Good luck, Fraser."

Diefenbaker whimpered, then led the way inside.

"Why do you call her an Ice Queen?"

"Oh, uh, Inspector Thatcher? She’s his boss lady."

"Oh, and call her icy because she’s his boss?"

"No, she’s Ice Queen because she’s cold hearted."

Brooks looked away. "Oh, that makes sense. You know her then?"

"Well enough."

"Well enough to call her names, but not well enough to simply say yes, you know her."

Ray let the silence build, not wanting to deal with her editorial. Finally he felt he’d thought of something clever so he spoke. "So, am I dropping you off at the psychiatric ward?"

Brooks curled the right side of her lip into a smile, but just the one side so Ray couldn’t see. "That’s it buddy. I heard a rumor at the station that you box. Tomorrow morning, one hour before work, you and me."

Ray chuckled. "You’re on."

"Grand."

He stopped in front of her building. "Guess if I’m gonna be chivalrous I should walk you to your door."

"That’s not necessary."

"Mind if I do it anyway?"

Brooks opened her door. "You’re a free agent."

They took the elevator in silence, walked down the hall in silence, and stood in front of her door in silence. Finally she pulled out her keys. "You can go now."

"Oh, yeah, all right," he said and took a step back.

"Why'd you come up anyway?" she asked, stopping him in his tracks.

He thought a minute before turning to face her. "Dunno. Just seemed the thing to do." He paused. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and started walking again.

"Yeah," she said under her breath.

Ray heard the keys jingle against the door and turned again. "You know," Brooks stopped and turned to him, waiting. "It’s just that we’re going to be working together. I thought maybe we could come to some sort of truce."

"Inside my apartment?"

"Well, no. I meant to say it in the car, but I just kept stalling." He took a few steps toward her. "I’m not happy about getting a partner. It’s not personal."

"It sure feels personal."

Ray shrugged. "I guess."

Brooks shook her head. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Good night, Ray. I’ll try to be a little more personable tomorrow."

Ray smiled a little. "Ok. That’s all I can ask."

She waited for more, but he nearly turned to walk away. "You’ll try too," she commanded.

Ray cleared his throat. "Sure," he said, then started walking back to the elevator.

Brooks turned the key, opened her door, and flipped on the light. Ray was halfway down the hall when he heard, "Oh my god!" He stopped and turned back to see her silhouette frozen just inside the door. "Ray!"

Fraser hung up the phone and looked at Inspector Thatcher.

"I trust it was important if I received a call from Detective… what was his name?… in the middle of a meeting."

"Yes ma’am. Detective Vecchio needs… assistance… on an important matter… immediately." Fraser held his Stetson in his hands.

Thatcher searched his face, looking for a trace of insincerity. Finding none she sighed. "Very well Constable. Dismissed."

Fraser hurried away, leaving with proper respect for the others in the room.

***

As Fraser stepped through the door marked "STAIRS" he was greeted by the organized chaos of a crime scene. The hub of the confusion lay around the entry to Tori's apartment. "Stay," he said to Diefenbaker as he hurried down the hall. With a twinge of fear he hurried through the maze of officers and detectives questioning the tenants for possible leads. The words "Something happened. You’ve got to come to Brooks’ apartment," rang through his mind. He had to dodge a cameraman and a forensics cart in the doorway before he could get a clear view of the room. He could remember with much detail what the apartment had been like when he and Ray had picked up Brooks before the stakeout the night before. As he scanned the room he realized not a single thing was out of place. There was, in fact, only one new thing in the room – a dead woman. He could tell by the pallor of her skin and her transfixed stare that she was dead, but there was no obvious cause of death. All Fraser could think to say was "Oh dear." He looked up and saw Brooks standing with her arms folded talking to Huey and Dewey. Ray stood behind her, but just then, he looked up and saw Fraser. He made his way across the room.

"Hey Fraze. What a mess, eh?"

Fraser straightened his eyebrow with his thumbnail. "Yes. It appears to be. Who is she?"

"Dunno. Brooks doesn’t recognize her. They just finished the video and Davis took some extra photos… now they get to collect the evidence."

"How is Detective Brooks taking it?"

"Welsh gave the case to Jack and Dewey. She’s making sure it’s all done right. Won’t stay out of it."

"Did you need my assistance?"

"Nah. I just wanted you here in case we have to carry her outta here. She’s making Huey nuts."

The two of them made their way back to Brooks. By that time, Huey and Dewey were overseeing the team collecting evidence and Brooks had chosen one of the men in latex gloves carrying tweezers to follow.

"Look, there, a blonde hair. I don’t have blonde hair. Bag it and tag it," she said at the same moment the man noticed it and went after it with the tweezers.

"I got it, ma’am," he said in exasperation.

"Hey, don’t ma’am me, ok? I’m a Detective. I just want to make sure you get it all." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I’ll make myself useful." She turned and bumped into a taller figure. Tipping her head back slightly, she saw that it was Fraser. "Oh, sorry, Constable. I’m just going to get a pair of gloves."

Ray grabbed her arm. "It’s not your case, Brooks. You gotta let Jack and Dewey handle it."

She pulled away gently and ignored him. She was trying to get a pair of gloves from the box when Huey came up behind her. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Brooks."

She turned and started to put the gloves on. "I know what I’m doing."

"It’s not your case," Dewey added.

"I know what I’m doing," she said more firmly.

"Look, Brooks, get outta here." Huey grabbed her arm.

She pulled away and stepped back. "It’s under control, fellas, really, I’m just going to help."

"Don’t make us force you out," Huey continued.

She took another step back. "I got it, guys, I got it."

Ray moved past her and stepped up to Huey. "We’ll keep an eye on her ok? We’ll make sure she doesn’t mess anything."

Dewey straightened. "It’s not your case either, Ray."

"Come on, guys, cut her some slack. There’s a dead body in her apartment."

"Fine. Just make sure she stays out of the way until Welsh gets here," Huey advised.

"Welsh is coming?" Ray was a little surprised.

"Yeah, we called him. We figured with a dead body in one of our cops’ apartments… well, who knows. I mean, we don’t really know anything about her," Dewey explained.

Ray took a defensive stance "She didn’t do this."

"I’m sure."

"Well, first of all, she’s been with me for the past twenty four hours on your stakeout and paperwork."

Dewey pointed at Ray. "You never know. I heard she shot a guy. Could be hiding behind her badge."

"Nothin’ like jumpin’ to a conclusion," Ray replied. "We picked her up here and she hasn’t been out of my sight since. Explain that."

Dewey shrugged. "An accomplice?"

"Look, Ray, we got a body in her apartment with no sign of forced entry." Huey counted two points on his fingers. "We also got a white powdery substance on the kitchen floor we haven’t checked out yet, but I’ll bet it’s drugs. We also have a cop who may have shot a guy – rumor is it was unprovoked."

"I already know about that one. He shot at her first. Look, you guys stay outta my way and I’ll stay outta yours." With that, he hurried away, Fraser close behind. When they caught up with Brooks, she was examining the white powder on the floor in the kitchen. She touched the edge of the spot, sniffed, and tasted.

"Brooks!" Ray rolled his eyes. "Don’t go pullin’ a Fraser on me, ok? Don’t lick stuff."

"It’s heroin, Ray." Brooks stood and turned to the window over the sink.

"So, drug involved murder, what a shocker. C’mon, Brooks, Fraser and I’ll take you to dinner."

"We ate less than 2 hours ago, Ray. Look." She pointed to the window.

"Yeah, he came in through there, or left. Something. We’ll show Huey and Dewey so they can have their forced entry."

"Nope. The window only opens about 6 inches and I know it was closed when I left. It’s something they need to know."

"Let’s go get some coffee and you can write it all down for them."

"Ray, I’m the only one who will know what’s out of place here and they want me to leave? Anything could happen."

Just then three men in forensics jackets entered the kitchen.

"C’mon." Ray signaled toward the front room. "Let’s go talk to Michaels. She’s on the body. Maybe she can shed some light."

Brooks followed Ray and Fraser back to the living room. They saw Michaels making some notes into a tape recorder as she zipped the bag over the woman’s face with her free hand. She looked up and saw Ray. "I’m not talking to you about it." She nodded at two men who lifted the body onto a gurney.

"Aw, c’mon. I didn’t even get a chance to ask," Ray returned quickly.

"Huey and Dewey informed me it’s not your case. Makes it not your business." She tucked a lock of her brown hair back into the bun she had tied loosely on the back of her neck.

"What if I promise you dinner?" Ray said softly and smiled boyishly.

She smiled back, a flash in her brown eyes. "Try getting it out of your buddy Mort." She signaled and two men wheeled the body away.

Brooks watched it go out the door, then was distracted by Welsh’s large figure hovering in the doorway.

He stepped in and surveyed the scene. "Vecchio!"

Ray looked past Michaels. "Uh oh."

Welsh pushed his way directly to Brooks. "What are you still doing here? Huey and Dewey told me you’re refusing to leave."

Brooks straightened. "I’m not exactly refusing. I’m just not finished here yet."

Welsh sneered at Ray. "And what about you? Why are you here? I want all of you out of here. Take the Mountie with you!"

Brooks stood defiantly. "I’m not leaving."

Welsh grabbed her hands and ripped off the latex gloves. "I said get out. You are contaminating a crime scene and you are still a suspect. I don’t care what kind of alibi you have. Now, get out before I make you regret it!"

For the first time, Ray felt a touch of something to fear from Welsh. He leaned toward Brooks. "Let’s go get some coffee, Brooks. I think you need a break."

She ignored Ray and turned away from Welsh. Welsh grabbed her arm and swung her toward him. Anger rose and seeped through her voice. "You are not my master. I still have free agency to make decisions on my own! Let go of me this instant or I’ll be the one making you regret it!"

Welsh leaned close and Ray strained to hear him speaking softly and calmly near Brooks’ ear. "It’ll take me about one minute to make a phone call to your friends in internal affairs. Do I need to do that?" He straightened, let go of her arm, and turned to Ray. "Got your phone, Vecchio?"

"No, no, it’s all right." She cleared her throat and grunted. "I need a cup of coffee. Would you guys mind going with me?"

Ray furrowed his brow in question as Fraser put on his hat and led the way out of the apartment.

***

They sat in a quiet corner of the diner. Ray and Brooks ordered coffee, but Fraser asked for water. As the waitress walked away, Ray asked for a slice of cherry pie with whipped cream. It was very silent for several minutes. The waitress returned and poured the coffee.

Finally Brooks spoke. "There’s something strange about this whole thing."

Ray sighed. "Don’t think about it, Brooks. Huey and Dewey are good guys. They’ll figure it all out and clear you."

"It is strange, don’t you think, though? She was left in a cop’s apartment. Are they trying to frame me or was it just a coincidence?"

Ray put a little sugar in his coffee and took a sip.

"I think it was planned this way," she continued. "Whoever killed her had a key. They must have had a key to get in without a trace. Besides, neighbors notice things like guys with a body slung over their shoulders and a crowbar trying to open a door."

"I mean it, Brooks, don’t dwell on it. We don’t even know who the victim is. We can’t start without that."

"Maybe she’s an addict and her boyfriend dumped her so he wouldn’t get busted for her accidental overdose."

"Unlikely," Fraser cut in. "She did not have signs of a drug addiction."

"He’s right," Ray added. "No track marks."

"There is something very odd about…" she trailed off in deep thought.

Ray realized it was time to take her mind off the body back in her apartment. He searched for a subject that seemed trivial enough. "So, Victoria? What’s the story behind that name?"

Brooks poured one creamer packet into her coffee, then turned the sugar dispenser upside-down as she spoke. "It’s a tradition in my family. The first daughter of the first daughter is to be named after a queen or ruler." She returned the sugar to the table and began to stir. The coffee almost looked thick with sugar. She took a sip.

"Sweet enough?" Ray said sarcastically.

She nodded casually. "My mother’s name is Isabella and her mother was Elizabeth. I plan to name my daughter Alexandra – as in Romanov."

Fraser stared at his water, unblinking.

Ray and Brooks noticed him at about the same time. Brooks spoke first. "What, Constable? No stories about a beaver named Vicki?"

Fraser snapped up and looked at them. "I, uh…" He took a deep breath. "I knew a Victoria once. She…" His mouth continued to open and close, but no sound came out.

"Wow, Fraze, first time I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words," Ray interjected.

Fraser frowned. "No, it just isn’t important."

"You sure?" Ray asked. "Sure seems important."

Fraser shook his head. "It isn’t important to the conversation."

"That never stopped you before," Ray teased.

Fraser tried to look amused, but couldn’t.

Ray saw that it was time to change the subject. "We’re still on for boxing tomorrow, right? I can’t wait to beat you down."

She scoffed. "Yes, Ray, we’re on. I can hardly wait to put you in your place."

***

Fraser walked into his office and heard a loud humming come from his closet. Setting his hat on his desk, he sighed and cocked his head at the door. Running his thumbnail along his eyebrow, he knew he had to be up early the next morning. He had promised to witness the boxing match and it had already been such a long day. Sighing again, audibly this time, Fraser opened the closet door. He stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind himself.

Robert Fraser was humming loudly as he listened to a record and scribbled at his desk. He looked up. "Hello there, son."

Fraser took a step forward. "What are you doing, Dad?"

"Writing. I’ve forgotten to write in my journals for, well, who knows how long."

Fraser rolled his eyes. "What could you be writing? You’re dead."

"I know that, son. Must you continually rub it in?"

"I’m tired, Dad. Can’t we get this over with?"

"What’s that, son?"

"There’s a new woman. It’s your turn to remind me you want a grandchild so I can say there’s nothing between us and you can pout."

"Nothing of the kind, son. Although…"

"Then why are you here?"

"I told you, I’m writing my journals."

Fraser stood confused for a moment. Finally Bob continued. "Maybe you needed to talk to me."

Fraser sat in the chair beside the fireplace. "Her name is Victoria."

"Oh god, not her again. I’ve told you son…"

"No, not her. Ray’s new partner. Her name is Victoria. The name makes me think of… of her, though."

"She was no good, son. No good at all."

"I know, Dad, but she gave me something I’d never had before. Something I’ll never have again." He began to look off into the distance.

"Are you sure of that, son?"

Fraser snapped out of the trancelike state and sat up.

Bob continued. "It didn’t work out with her because she didn’t understand you, but this girl does. She understands more than you know, son."

Fraser looked skeptical. "We’re nothing alike, Dad. Besides, she’s so emotional."

"The only emotion I see is anger, Benton. She’s more like you than you want to accept."

Fraser scoffed. "I have to be up early Dad."

"All right, Son, but remember a couple of things."

Fraser raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"She figured out about the jewels by using logic, didn’t she?"

Benton nodded. "Anyone in this profession must use logic in order to form working hypotheses."

Robert nodded and folded his hands. "She seems a little out of her element here, though, doesn’t she? Perhaps a little lonely?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary that I noticed."

"You should ask her about that." Robert continued. "Maybe just a little like yourself."

Benton stood and left without another word.

***

Fraser stood back, holding his hat as he watched Ray bounce around in his corner of the ring.

Ray’s "CHAMPION" tattoo flexed as he saw Brooks come out of the locker room. She had on a short sleeved, midriff revealing shirt that gave him a better look at her pierced navel and tattoos. He also noticed as she put her leg through the ropes that her shorts revealed one more tattoo – this time it was a swarm of butterflies in different colours, sizes, and positions. She stood tall in her corner and gritted her teeth.

"We don’t have much time, so let’s just fight until you give up," Ray taunted.

"You’ll be in a ball crying, hot shot."

"Fraser, would you be our bell?"

The fighting began and Ray was a little surprised when her first punch sent him against the ropes. She came up on him and started pounding before he had a chance to catch his breath. After he lost count of the punches, he tucked his head behind his gloves and pushed off the ropes. He got in several good punches, but as he reached out for a definitive punch, she ducked and got him square on the chin. His head went back and he reached out to catch his balance, at which point he felt several blows to his abdomen. He hit the mat and she stepped back. "Finished, big boy?"

He stood. "Just holding back," he replied, short on breath.

He unleashed himself and the fighting was a little more even. It ended when they were both exhausted and had called a truce. Brooks limped off to one locker room while Fraser followed Ray into the other. Ray changed with great difficulty.

"Do you feel better?" Fraser asked, finally.

"A little." He groaned as he pulled his shirt over his head. "I’m not some Neanderthal, y’know. I can handle a woman cop, but she is something else. I’ve never seen one that can box like that."

"You’ve never seen a woman box?"

"Well, ok, yeah I have, but that chick was psycho, and not too pretty."

"Ah, so Detective Brooks is different because she is attractive?"

"No, I mean yes. I mean, she is attractive," he smiled as he looked off in the distance, then looked back at Fraser, "but that isn’t what makes it different." He pulled on his pants with another grunt.

"Ah. Understood," was Fraser’s reply.

***

As they drove to the station, Brooks examined her jaw in the cosmetic mirror. A bruise had developed from the punch she’d taken from Ray the day before and there was a tell tale redness on her eye. She glanced over at Ray who was deep in concentration on the road and saw that not only did he have a split lip, his jaw was also red. ‘Good. He’ll have a bruise too,’ she thought. ‘He deserves it, the little weasel.’

Ray’s phone rang and he pulled it out with one hand while turning a corner with the other. "Vecchio."

She could hear Welsh’s voice through the earpiece.

"Where the hell are you?! You and Brooks shoulda been here half an hour ago!"

"We’re on our way. We’ll be there in ten minutes."

"If you want to make me happy, you’ll be here half an hour ago…" With that, Ray hung up the phone and concentrated again on the road. The phone rang again and he ignored it for several rings. Finally the ringing stopped and he heard Francesca come in on his radio.

"You two better get in here fast. Welsh is fuming."

"Thanks, Frannie. You’re pretty good at that observation stuff," Ray replied.

"He wants to see Brooks in his office as soon as you guys get here."

Brooks sighed. "Thanks, Francesca."

They pulled into the parking lot and Brooks jumped out of the car as it pulled to a stop. Ray was close behind while Fraser and Diefenbaker took a moment to catch up.

Francesca looked up from her desk as they walked by. "Gee, what happened to you guys?"

"What?" Brooks asked.

"Ray’s cut lip, you’ve got a bruise on your face. You two luke it out?"

"Luke? Frannie it’s duke." Ray was perturbed.

"Luke, duke, fluke, whatever!"

Ray turned to Brooks. "Want me to join you in his office?"

"Naw. I guess I have to go in by myself and face up to it." She turned toward Welsh’s office, then paused. "When he’s really pissed like that, should I be afraid?"

Ray turned a moment and saw Welsh red-faced, yelling into the phone. "Uh, yeah."

She took a deep breath. "He wouldn’t kill me or anything, would he?"

"Naw," Ray replied. "He’ll just string you up for a couple hours."

Frannie watched the conversation with interest. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing, Frannie."

"C’mon, I’m interested." She turned to Fraser for answers and Ray repeated himself

"Nothing, Frannie."

"Is that all you have to say? Where’s the sarcasm?" she asked, finally letting it drop.

"I don’t have any right now. Maybe later." He headed toward his desk just as Welsh came out of his office.

"Vecchio! It looks like this better be with both of you."

Ray raised his eyebrows and followed Brooks into the office. Fraser and Dief followed also.

Welsh sat at his desk and looked up. When he saw Fraser had joined them, he grunted, but made no more mention of their presence.

"I’ve got a real mess here. IA is already involved. Sorry, Brooks. Looks like you are out of commission for a while."

"Pardon?!" Brooks stepped forward.

"I’m going to have to ask you to leave your shield when you leave my office. It already leaked out that you stuck around the crime scene. You are to have no further involvement."

She tossed her shield and reached for her gun.

"You can’t contact Ray either."

"Why would I want to?"

"Ray is still allowed access to the case. Where’d you stay last night?"

"A hotel, why?"

"No access to your apartment until this is cleared up. Better leave the hotel and room number with Miss Vecchio."

"What!? All my stuff is there, my clothes, my… my…"

"I know, but it’s not my discretion."

Brooks slammed her hand on the nearest object, a chair. "I can’t afford a hotel for who knows how long. The department going to pay for it?"

"Sorry, Detective," Welsh replied. "They’re checking out everything on you. I’m getting the distinct impression that Captain Walsh wasn’t straight with me about you."

Brooks looked fierce. "He was, I assure you. They’re not going to find anything you couldn’t find."

"You sure about that?" Ray asked. "IA can be pretty thorough."

Brooks turned the angered look on Ray. "Trust me. I know just how fucking thorough they can be."

Welsh’s phone began to ring. He glanced at it, then looked back to Ray. "Ray, you are personally responsible. The boys upstairs are making me make sure you keep your nose buried in another case."

Ray grunted.

"There is no mention of contact with the Mountie, though," Welsh said more softly.

Ray grinned boyishly. "So which case am I supposed to be buried in?"

"Frannie’s got the file."

"Well, I’m her ride so I guess she’ll be ok if she’s with me until I can take her to her hotel?" Ray asked.

Welsh thought a moment and shrugged. "Just don’t let the big guys see her."

They went out and asked Fran for the file Welsh had referred to. She handed it to Ray and leaned back in her chair. "So, you managed to come out alive, eh?" she asked Brooks.

Brooks glowered and nodded her head dismissively.

Fraser leaned over Ray’s shoulder to look at the file with him.

"What’s the case?" Brooks asked.

"Dead guy," Ray responded.

"What do we know? Did he have a record?" she continued.

"Petty theft. Nothing worth getting whacked."

"Hmmm," Fraser looked up and saw the two Detectives looking at him.

"What’s hmmm?" Ray asked.

"Nothing."

"Listen, Fraser, spit it out. Don’t go hmmming me and then say ‘nothing’. You know that makes me crazy."

"Understood. I think we should start in the morgue."

"Ugh, not the morgue," Ray sighed. "I’m not going down there. There’re dead bodies down there."

"You’re kidding me, right?" Brooks said. "What the hell are you doing in this line of business if you can’t stand a body or two now and then?"

Ray pointed a finger. "Hey, I don’t have to like dead bodies. I’ve already seen one this week. Don’t harsh on me!" They locked in a stare momentarily and Ray continued. "Besides, it’s not the bodies so much as the morgue. Cold room just filled with them? The entire purpose of the place is about poking and prodding, ugh," he finished, adding a shudder before grunting and walking past her, following Fraser to the morgue.

As they neared the morgue they heard an opera rendition that – wasn’t terrible.

"Good morning, Mort." Fraser spoke pleasantly. "Do you have anything for us yet?"

The man had a thick accent. "Some of the information is written down over there." Mort pointed to an empty gurney.

"Peculiar," Fraser said with his nose in the file.

"What’s peculiar, Fraser?" Ray made sure his eyes had no chance of wandering toward the body on the table in front of Mort by walking around the room, facing the wall at all times.

"Hmmm, bullet to the chest, huh? But what’s this?" Brooks said as she examined the chest of dead body.

"You are…?" Mort asked, his accent was strong.

"Detective Brooks, Detective Vecchio’s new partner."

"Nice to meet you."

Brooks smiled. "You too. Do you know what it is?"

Mort leaned in. "It looks as though he was injected just before he died."

Fraser leaned in and smelled deeply.

"What do you smell?" Brooks asked.

"Salt?" Fraser replied, incredulously.

"Salt?" Brooks was equally confused.

"Salt?" Ray chimed in. "Someone injected salt in this guy?"

"Salt water," Mort replied. "It must be. Shall I test?"

"Yes, Mort. Can we go, Fraze? He’s going to test it."

Brooks walked around to Ray. "If your delicate senses can’t handle this then maybe you should go back to your cushy desk while I handle this."

"You can’t, remember? Get away from the body, girlie." Ray had already learned how to get on her nerves and grinned boyishly.

She snarled like an animal, causing Ray to looked confused, then she turned back to the body. She noticed Fraser looking at her and growled at him also. Fraser turned and picked up the shoe from the table where the man’s clothing was carefully folded. He sniffed the sole, then his tongue darted out in a quick taste. Brooks immediately grabbed the shoe. "What the hell was that?" she said disgusted, then smelled the sole herself and looked back at Fraser. "What did it taste like?" she asked with fascination.

"It tastes like the lake they call Michigan."

"Lake Michigan?" she asked as she examined the shoe with a careful gaze and a sniff.

"Yes, the lake they call Michigan," he confirmed.

She looked up. "Lake Michigan," she told him.

"Right, the lake…" he began again.

"Let him have it, Brooks," Ray said. "Trust me, it’s just easier."

She nodded. "Uh, so the shoe tasted like Lake… the lake?"

Fraser nodded.

"What’s that? What does that mean?" Ray accidentally turned, saw the body, and turned quickly back against a file cabinet.

Brooks rolled her eyes. "It means he was at the lake."

"Well, no kidding. He washed up on the shore or something, right?"

"Yes," Mort replied. "It’s fairly easy. Someone shot the man, then pushed him into the lake and he managed to wash ashore."

"But why the injection?" Ray asked.

"It is certainly a valid question, Ray," Fraser cocked his head. "Mort, would you see what you can deduce?"

"Certainly," Mort replied. "I’ve already removed the bullet. Ballistics should currently be locating the serial number of the gun from where it came," Brooks again noted the strong accent as he enunciated each word.

Fraser nodded. "Thank you, kindly, Mort. We will return later."

"Where are we going?" Ray turned, keeping his eyes locked on Fraser.

"I believe the most prudent course of action would include tracing that gun," Fraser replied.

Ray flipped open his phone and started dialing. "I’ll find out what they know right now."

Brooks began to look around and saw another body wheeled into a corner. Fraser was intent on Ray’s conversation and Mort had returned to his body. She walked slowly over to the gurney and peeked under the sheet. It was the woman from her apartment. She looked once more to make sure everyone was preoccupied and opened the file on her chest.

Name: Muriel Stover

DOB: March 24, 1960…

"I’m not sure that is entirely ethical." She jumped as Fraser spoke from behind her.

She flipped the folder closed as she spun around. "I was just…"

"That is the woman from your apartment, correct?"

She took a breath. "Yes."

"Ray and I are ready to go," he said with no further mention.

She followed them from the room and stopped Ray in the hall. "What’d you find?"

"Uh, not much," he began. "The gun was reported stolen by a Sam Walters last week. Mort says the body is 7 days old and the gun was stolen 7 days ago. Guess we go talk to Sam Walters."

"And where do we find him?" Brooks asked.

"Try his house, first I guess," Ray replied, not slowing down.

"May I suggest we find out if he works near the lake?" Fraser added.

"Why?" Ray questioned.

Fraser started walking toward the exit while Ray and Brooks exchanged confused looks. They caught up in only a moment.

Brooks looked at Fraser. "You tasted something else, didn’t you? Something helpful?"

"Fish," Fraser replied plainly.

"Fish?" Ray and Brooks chimed in unison.

"I believe so, yes. There wasn’t a lack of mud indicating that he was more than likely where the fishermen dock their boats and for some reason he was on one of those boats."

"But there are several places… are you saying we have to go to each one by one?" Ray asked, sounding defeated.

"It’s a place to start. We can ask a few informal questions. Perhaps Sam Walters works down there and someone can help us find him." Fraser continued to the car.

***

After a couple hours of questioning, Ray was ready to give up. He was tired of dragging a cop with no authority, a Mountie, and a wolf around the docks.

"We’re not done, are we?" Brooks asked as Ray grunted his disapproval.

"We’ve been through the register of boating establishments. I’m about ready to drop you in the lake so I don’t have to deal with you on the ride home."

"First of all, what home? I’m going to have to spend my life savings to stay in that hotel. Secondly, we’ve been to every legal dock. Aren’t there illegal, secret ones?"

"If they were illegal, they’d be pretty careful to make sure I, a cop, wouldn’t know about them."

"What kind of cop are you? Don’t you have secret informants?" Brooks challenged.

Ray furrowed his eyebrows and spoke like a manual. "We are not encouraged to have informants."

"Call them."

"I just said…"

"Call them, him whoever you got."

"No."

"No?"

"If I call them, you might steal them for yourself."

"Oh for crying out loud! Stop the car, get out, use your little cell phone and make the call – out of my earshot."

Ray made a face and pulled over. She watched as he stood outside the car flailing his free arm around, hanging up, dialing, and flailing again.

"What a freak," she said.

"You know, he really isn’t a bad guy, once you get to know him. Perhaps you should give him a chance."

She rolled her eyes. "So what are your thoughts on the case?"

Fraser cocked his head. "It seems convenient that the gentleman in question noticed his gun was missing an hour after the crime at which time he reported it stolen."

"I know Sam Walters did it. I meant about the body in my apartment."

"Welsh made it very clear…"

"Forget that. C’mon, informally, what are your thoughts?"

Fraser let out a breath. "I’m not sure there is enough information to come to any conclusions quite yet."

"Something’s really bothering me. Muriel Stover is her name. She’s about 37. Stover… Stover," Brooks looked at her hand as if it had answers.

"I’m afraid I don’t see any significance," Fraser said, leaning forward.

"Neither do I… yet."

Ray opened his door and climbed inside. "Well, looks like our best bet is to get this guy this evening. I’m ready for a lunch break. How about you?"

Brooks sighed. "I suppose."

***

Diefenbaker hid under the table as the three took their seats. They were in their own little worlds for several minutes until Fraser finally spoke. "I’ve eaten meals with you an awful lot recently."

"The past couple days have been busy," Ray replied as he searched his menu.

Brooks sat in silence, not even looking at the menu. After several minutes, the waitress appeared.

"What can I getcha?" she spoke kindly.

Ray ordered a burger and Fraser was quick to add another. They looked at Brooks for several seconds before Ray nudged her. "Brooks?"

She jumped out of her trance. "Oh, I’m sorry. Uh, do you have a turkey club?"

The waitress nodded.

"I’ll take one with chips." She turned her attention back to the mesmerizing overturned coffee mug.

"Something wrong, Brooks?" Ray asked.

"Brooks?" Fraser added, looking at her intently, then trying his repetitive trick that always worked on Ray, eventually. "Tori, Tori, Tori, Tori…"

She jumped again and Ray spoke. "What’s up?"

She shook her head as if ridding it of cobwebs. "Huh?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh. You know, Stover is a very familiar name. I’m sure I knew her."

This time Ray was confused. "What?"

"The name of the corpse was Muriel Stover. Stover… Stover."

"How’d you find that out?" Ray asked

"I’m afraid Detective Brooks managed to get a peek at her file in the morgue today," Fraser replied.

"Leave it alone, Tori," Ray warned. "I know when you can push Welsh and when you can’t and this is definitely a ‘can’t’."

She tried not to think about it. They ate lunch, Ray and Fraser taking control of most of the conversation. Once in the car, Brooks finally spoke again. "Where are you going to take me then?"

"I’m sure I could arrange accommodations at the Consulate, if that might be acceptable." Fraser inserted.

"It would be appreciated." Brooks said hopefully.

"She’ll never make it past the Ice Queen." Ray snickered and made a face.

"I’m sure if I explained the situation…" Fraser leaned forward just as Dief whined. He turned to the wolf in surprise. "Well, she can be perfectly reasonable."

Ray pulled up in front of the Consulate. "I’ll wait out here while you try to explain it to her, Fraze. Good luck."

They went inside and Fraser led the way directly to Thatcher’s office.

Meg looked up and saw the two people in her doorway and stood. "Constable Fraser."

"Sir," he confirmed

"I’ve been looking for you," she said.

"Sir?" he questioned.

"Come in."

He stepped aside and put out an arm to motion Brooks in. She stepped inside despite Thatcher’s annoyed and confused glance. Fraser followed and closed the door.

"Sir, this is Detective Brooks."

"Why do you insist on befriending the entire Chicago Police Force, Fraser?" She asked as she put out a hand and shook Brooks’ hand.

"This isn’t going to be as easy as you thought, I see." Brooks said quietly to Fraser.

"It isn’t that I have anything against the Police or the Americans. I just don’t.… What do you mean ‘easy’?" Thatcher stepped back.

"Oh nothing," Brooks replied. "It’s just that I need a place to say and I was warned the ‘Ice Queen’ might be a little cold. I guess that would be you."

Fraser tugged his collar and Thatcher looked appalled.

Brooks continued. "I mean, it’s not that I have a problem with Canadians or anything…" She shot a dirty look to Thatcher who returned it promptly. "After all, you don’t even know why I’m here."

Thatcher relaxed slightly. "I suppose you are right, Detective. Why are you here?"

Fraser turned to Brooks. "Please, allow me to take it from here," he half-pleaded. "There was a body found in her apartment last night. She is in need of accommodations for a few days."

"I was not aware this was a hotel, Fraser," Thatcher said coldly.

"No, sir, but I thought that since we are in a tight spot she could spend the night in my office and I could…"

"You know something, Fraser? If I refuse you will talk and talk until I am forced to give you an order and then you may very well go ahead and do it anyway, won’t you?"

Fraser thought about it a moment and nodded.

"Fine, whatever. As soon as this business is cleared up, however, I don’t want to see her here again."

"Understood," Fraser replied and guided Tori from the room.

He led her to his office and showed her around the tiny place as if it were a mansion. He opened the closet and brought down the blankets, then set them on the desk. Just then, Bob Fraser came from the closet.

"Thanks, Fraser. I’m sorry if I was out of line in her office. She is quick to judge, huh?" Brooks said as she looked at the things on his desk.

"Out of line?" Bob asked. "What did she do?"

"Think nothing of it," Fraser said, ignoring his father.

Brooks smiled. "I have to admit. The look on her face when I called her an Ice Queen was priceless."

Bob stood straight with a half-smile. "She did that? She’s feisty son. Have you noticed how stubborn she is yet? It makes life more interesting."

Fraser turned and whispered a "Da-ad."

"Pardon?" Brooks said as she picked up a photo.

"Oh," he cleared his throat. "Nothing, just…" he cleared it again. "Something…"

She nodded and returned her attention to the picture. "Is this you’re father? Handsome. Looks like you."

"She’s smart, too, son. Good taste."

Fraser rolled his eyes. "I’m going to leave you now. Ray is waiting."

"Wait, Ben," she caught herself when he straightened. "Fraser… What am I supposed to do now?"

Fraser shrugged oddly. "Whatever you’d like," he replied and opened the door.

"Don’t you ever worry about ending up alone?" Bob said quickly before Fraser could get away.

Fraser froze in his tracks.

"Problem Constable?"

He stared at the closet door for a moment, then came to. "Ah, no, none. I’ll see you this evening."

Brooks nodded and sat behind the desk.

***

Brooks looked around the office, completely unaware of the being watching her. She saw a grouping of notebooks and some paperwork. Letting out a breath, she knew what she had to do.

Knocking softly on Thatcher’s door, she was invited in with a quiet, "Enter." When Thatcher saw Brooks, she frowned. "What now?"

"I didn’t come here to get you riled," Tori said, helping herself to a seat.

Thatcher still looked irritated. "Oh."

Brooks cleared her throat and swallowed her pride. "I’m sorry that I called you, well, I overheard someone else call you that and I just wanted to anger you because you seemed so judgmental of me."

Thatcher let out a breath and softened slightly. "Not that it’s an excuse, but you caught me at a bad time." She paused. "Who called me that? Constable…"

"No, no. Of course not."

Thatcher smiled slightly. "Oh."

Brooks smiled, trying to ease Thatcher’s mood. "Perhaps later when you could use a break w can talk about that look you gave him when he asked if I could stay in his room."

Thatcher pursed her lips and waved a hand, dismissing her.

***

It was late when Brooks heard Ray and Fraser both come through the door into Thatcher’s office. They froze in the doorway when they saw what was inside. Thatcher was at her desk holding five playing cards. Brooks had her feet up on the other side of the desk with five cards of her own. Thatcher immediately dropped her cards while Ray stood slack-jawed and Fraser stood stoic.

"Uh, welcome back, gentlemen." Thatcher stood as she spoke.

Fraser took a moment to reply. "Good evening, ladies," he was finally able to say.

Brooks looked at her cards. "Probably for the best, Meg. I had all four sevens." She set her cards down.

Thatcher couldn’t resist taking a brief look and smiling as she came around her desk. "I guess it is time for you to turn in." She gathered her coat and purse and made a hasty exit.

"So what happened today?" Brooks asked as she stood and straightened her blouse.

Fraser shook away the image in his head as Ray found the words to speak. "Well, we found another body. Actually, a guy found the body, but it also had a bullet wound and was injected with salt water. We got some freaky killer with a bizarre MO."

"Really? How intriguing," Brooks looked deep in thought.

"Uh, look, guys, I gotta go. Welsh says he’s keepin’ an eye on me real close and I’m supposed to report back before heading home."

"’Night, Ray," Brooks said dismissively.

Ray hurried away and Fraser walked Brooks to his office. Brooks was the first to speak.

"I’ve got to know what’s going on with that case, Fraser, and you’re the only one who can help me out."

"I’m not sure I see how…"

"Neither do I, but if I figure it out, will you help me?"

"Welsh made it clear that…"

"I’m begging, Fraser. Look, if you don’t help me out then I’ll stick my nose in the squad room and that’ll be the end of me. Are you going to make me do that?"

Fraser squirmed a moment.

"I’ll never tell anyone you helped and I’ll never ask for another favour."

Fraser looked sympathetic. "It would be wrong…"

She touched his arm gently. "Please, Fraser. I just… I mean, it was my apartment… my apartment. As it is, I don’t see how I’ll ever feel safe again."

Fraser looked deep into her eyes and felt a strange tug at his heart. "All right," he said finally. "Meet me at 3:00 in the broom closet at the station. I’ll bring you anything I can find out. Be careful."

"Thank you… Ben." She turned and headed into the office.

Fraser followed and closed the door. "Can we talk?" he asked.

Brooks looked surprised, but took a seat behind his desk. "What about?"

Benton leaned on the windowsill. "You." He folded his arms and she felt an interrogation coming on. Fraser had started to feel confined by her requests. He bit the inside of his lip, then looked deeply concentrated on her. "Detectives Huey and Dewey have a high arrest record. I happen to know they’ll find the killer. Now, I understand it was your place of residence, but you seem awfully determined to cause trouble."

"I’m not causing trouble, Ben," she said, using the side of her hand against the desk to make point. "I want to know what’s happening, I want to feel safe there again, and I want my life back."

Fraser furrowed his brow. "Your life back?"

Tori straightened and bit her lip as if she hadn’t realized what she’d said. "I mean, my apartment."

"How long have you lived there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Francesca said you came from the 8th precinct. If you were living in that apartment, that was a long commute, wasn’t it?"

"I just moved in," she paused. "Hence all the boxes?"

Fraser nodded. "Then why is your life wrapped up in the apartment?"

Brooks swallowed. "I meant I wanted my apartment back."

"That isn’t what you said," Fraser leaned forward a little. "Something’s wrong."

"It’s none of your business." Brooks looked away. "Even if there was something," she added quickly.

"Ah," Fraser said, speaking volumes. His father had told him she was out of her element, something was missing. He wondered now what it was, certain more that his father had been right.

Brooks looked at him. "What does that mean?"

"Perhaps you’d like to tell me," he replied.

Tori tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. "What about you? What’s your story? Why’d you become a Mountie?"

Fraser was a bit surprised, but unfolded his arms and put his hands in his lap. "My father was a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Tradition?"

"Yes. I wanted to protect the Inuit people I grew up around."

"Ah, small town boy."

Fraser nodded. "Very small."

"That explains a lot." Tori smiled.

"You became an officer of the law because…?"

Brooks let out a long breath. "I’m not sure." She looked at him and saw that he waited for more. "I watched my sister get killed by thugs because I thought I was doing the right thing by exposing them."

"After you became a police officer?"

"No, in college actually. It’s quiet convoluted, but the point is, they knew I was going to expose them so they threatened her. I tried to stop them, I even told them I wouldn’t testify, but they shot her."

"In your presence."

"Right before my eyes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I dropped out and spent a lot of time trying to find the best way to destroy my life, but I finally figured out that the only way to make up for what I’d done was to put them and everyone else in jail."

"It wasn’t your fault. They killed her, not you."

"My hand wasn’t on the trigger, but it might as well have been." Tori shrugged, acting like it was nothing when Fraser could see the pain in her eyes. "I was learning to deal with it pretty well, too. Then I shot a guy. Self defense, sure, but IA was still bound to investigate." She paused. "Let’s just say there are people, at least one person in IA who would like to see me gone and leave it at that."

Fraser nodded. "I didn’t mean to upset you. Perhaps Internal Affairs won’t be too hard on you this time. Ray and I both know you weren’t involved."

Tori shrugged. "Sure. They’ll find enough circumstantial evidence, being as the body was in my apartment and the crime very well may have taken place there, they’ll find she was dead just long enough or that I have a past and they’ll just drop the case against me." Letting out a grunt, she continued. "I’m sorry, but I just want to know if things are getting hotter for me or cooler, that’s all."

Fraser could understand. She was anxious. Still, knowing the progress of the case was unlikely to make a difference. "I’ll meet you at three," he said softly, standing and crossing to the door.

"Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks," she said quietly, then added, "but none of this is to leave this room."

"Understood," Fraser replied, knowing it wouldn’t have left his lips either way. He pulled the door closed quietly and went to find a quiet corner for his own night of rest.

Finding a spot near the back exit, he made himself comfortable. He thought about what Tori Brooks had said once his eyes were closed. She wasn’t exactly out of her element. Not like him. She knew this city, but had been thrown into a new part of it. What his father had seen was loss, Fraser realized. Fraser had known it too, he supposed, or his father wouldn’t have been able to pick it out. She’d lost her sister. She blamed herself. She was beginning to make sense.

***

Brooks had no idea what time it was when she woke. She heard talking outside, but she only recognized Thatcher’s voice. She straightened herself up and walked cautiously into the hall. Thatcher was presenting some sort of daily schedule to another Mountie with great difficulty. The Mountie was a bit in his own world and only understood about half of her instructions. He tended to take things too literally and she watched as Thatcher finally turned and walked away, exasperated.

Brooks made her way slowly to the Mountie. "Constable?"

The Mountie jumped to his feet and spun in a move that surprised Brooks into taking a step back.

"H-h-hi," she said almost as a laugh holding out her hand.

"Hello, there. My name is Constable Turnbull. Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, Turnbull. I’m Detective Brooks of the Chicago PD." She saw that he looked more comfortable now and continued. "I was just wondering what time is it?"

He looked at his watch then stood back at attention. "Ten twenty seven and thirty one seconds, Ma’am."

"Thanks. Has Fraser gone for the day then?"

"Oh yes, ma’am. That nice Detective came and picked him up at nine thirteen this morning."

"Thanks, Turnbull."

The confusion returned to his face and he leaned toward her. "Why are you here, Ma’am?"

She smiled at the opportunity to confuse him. "I’m not," she replied and hurried away.

Brooks kept herself busy all day. She sat in a diner at lunchtime and made notes about anything she could remember from her apartment. When she moved in, she noticed the floorboards in the main closet were damaged. She took notes about the window and about the name that was on the mailbox when she got there. She finally remembered that’s where the name Stover was. She knew it was familiar and she finally had an identity – the previous tenants. They had moved quickly, that’s why the apartment was immediately available when she moved in. Why had they gone so quickly? Brooks thought for several minutes and remembered that the landlord hadn’t known why either. He’d said they were simply determined and he took pity on them. She wrote all she could remember over coffee after her meal. All at once she realized it was nearly 3 o’clock.

She cursed leaving her motorcycle in her apartment’s parking lot as she dashed into the street and ran toward the station.

She was breathless when she reached the doors. Taking a moment for a deep breath, she walked cautiously inside, watching for anyone she needed to worry about. It was exactly 3 o’clock when she got to the closet. She peered inside, pulled the chain to turn on the light, and closed the door. As she looked around, she found an empty five gallon bucket. After turning it over, she sat cross legged and simply waited, making a few more notes as she did.

A few minutes later, Fraser opened the door carefully. He saw her inside waiting and closed the door quickly. "I apologize for my tardiness," he said as he passed her a file.

She took it and passed him the notebook. "Thanks, Fraser." She let out a breath and opened the folder. "That’s got information that might be helpful. I don’t know how you’ll get Huey and Dewey to accept it, but I really think there is some useful stuff in there. The most prominent being a messed up floor in the main closet, I suspect. I wonder if it’s a removable piece. Make sure they check it out."

Fraser nodded. "It appears the Stover couple lived in your apartment just before you."

She nodded and pursed her lips. "I know. I remembered their name on the mailbox about an hour ago. It would have been helpful if I’d remembered sooner."

"Ah. I only managed to get a little information for you. It was a heroin overdose and it was heroin on the kitchen floor. She has bruises indicating the injection was forced. The husband has only just been found and he is currently being held for questioning."

She looked over the file and let out another breath. After several moments, she looked up with great concern in her eyes. "I’m not going down for this one Fraser. That’s all that really matters."

"Pardon me?" He was confused.

"I thought I was still walking a thin line, Fraser. I came here to escape a past that should have had my badge."

"You don’t have to tell me any more."

She considered not telling him for a moment, then continued, deciding only to remain vague. "The guy I shot, the one who shot me… he wasn’t the guy we were after. They let me go because he was a criminal and we found him by pure luck, but he wasn’t the one who should’ve been there that day." She looked at him and stood. "I’ve just been hurt too many times." In his eyes, she saw only a distant look. "You don’t understand." She stuttered. "I… I should go."

"I do understand, Brooks. Trust me on that. Victoria…" His mind felt odd as he realized Brooks was, as his father mentioned, an angry soul. All other emotion was lost on her. She was also, like him, hard on herself. He looked into her face which anxiously awaited the end of his sentence. "I did the right thing, Tori, and so did you. Trust yourself."

The words sank in slowly. She’d heard them before, but never understood how to take them in until Fraser spoke them. She found herself staring into his eyes, looking for more answers, for more advice she had never heard, but would actually understand if they came from his lips.

Fraser noticed the way she was stealing his thoughts through his eyes and couldn’t tug them away. He squinted slightly, then relaxed and leaned just a little closer. He used two fingers of his right hand to gently lift her jaw to his. She instinctively put her right hand on his shoulder as he brought his left around and put it on her back. Before either of them knew what was happening, their lips touched gingerly. Tori knew it was very wrong. She clasped his hand with her left. He felt her warm fingers on his hand as his lips caressed hers. When he felt her try to pull the hand away, he grasped her fingers and brought their hands together to his heart.

The world was suddenly not there. It never had been there and it never would as far as they were concerned. It was just these two bodies touching. She began to accept and sank into the kiss, letting the hand on her back be her only support. Her legs felt weak and her right arm hung limp at her side. She took notice of the firm, smooth lip touching hers and he observed her soft, velvety lips. They explored the sensation only a moment longer before the doorknob began to turn. Fraser heard it first and moved back to attention. Brooks fell back over the bucket she’d been sitting on when her support was gone. Her arms flailed and she landed with her feet above her head. As she regained the use of her muscles, she reached to stand and was pulling herself up, but it was too late. Francesca was standing frozen in the doorway. She had seen them.

The squad room was colder than usual as Ray winked at Francesca. "Hey Frannie," he said as he passed and noticed Fraser sitting next to his desk. "Hey, Fraser, what’s shakin’?"

"Shaking?" he enunciated.

"Yeah," Ray replied. "Shakin’." He paused and looked the Mountie up and down. "What’s going on in your world," Ray clarified.

"Ah," Benton said, adding a nod. "Shaking." He processed the information and looked up at his anxious partner. "Leftenant Welsh wanted to tell you what’s shaking," he replied, seeming proud of his new word usage.

Ray glanced into Welsh’s office and saw the Lieutenant behind his desk, a jovial grin on his face. As Ray looked about the room for the cause of the smile, he saw the figure of a woman. Moving a step sideways so he could see past a notice taped to Welsh’s window, he squinted to peer through the blinds. Just then, the feminine figure turned. First he was caught by the flash of dark auburn hair flipping from her face, then he noticed the dark emerald eyes looking back at him.

Smiling just enough to show his dimples, Ray straightened and so did the woman. She turned back to Welsh and Ray turned to Fraser. "Whoa. Who’s the hottie with Welsh?"

Fraser turned to look through the window. "What is a ‘hottie’?"

"Fox, babe…" he said just as the door opened.

"Babe? Ah, you mean the lady with whom he is conversing? I believe he wants to discuss that with you."

"You know something?" Ray asked, but was quickly interrupted by Welsh.

"Vecchio, my office now."

Welsh returned to his desk as Ray passed through the office door. He watched the woman stand back from the door to let him in and noticed as her head turned that there was a hidden streak of oddly coloured hair. It appeared to be a purple streak. He put on a boyish grin as he stepped into the room. "Lieutenant, if this is about that guy I was interrogating, he had that cut on his lip before I got in there. Don’t let him tell you different."

Welsh rolled his eyes. "This is Detective Brooks, Vecchio."

Ray turned and held out a hand. "Detective?"

"Yes. They let us solve crimes now," she said sarcastically.

Ray’s hand dropped and he furrowed his brow. "Uh, nice to meet you," he began, then added under his breath, "I suppose." Ray crossed to the couch and flopped into it. "Want me to show her the ropes or something?"

Welsh feigned a smile and folded his hands. "Not exactly," he replied.

Ray straightened in interest.


"Brooks will be your new partner," Welsh added after a moment silence.

Jumping to his feet again, Ray approached the desk. "Partner? I don’t need a partner. I got Fraser."

"Fraser is not actually a member of this department which means, technically, you do not have a partner. She was assigned here by the folks upstairs. You’re the only detective in my division without a partner so you get her."

She broke in, a little offended. "Excuse me, sir, but it’s not like he’s stuck with some rookie, ya know. I’m very experienced. I would prefer to think of me being stuck with him."

"I can’t believe this. What kind of crap are you pulling on me?" Ray asked, gesturing with both hands. "Me and Fraser been working together for months, not to mention," he stopped himself and glanced at her, then looked very seriously into Welsh’s eyes. "Not to mention the other thing."

"Sorry, Detective Brooks, you’re quite right," Welsh said, bypassing Ray’s comments. "It appears I need a few moments with Detective Vecchio to baby his ego. Would you excuse us?"

"Yeah, go stand next to the red guy." Ray pointed two fingers through the window. "We’ll have this straightened out real quick-like."

Brooks looked exasperated as she picked up the motorcycle helmet that had been sitting on Welsh’s desk. She threw it casually under her arm and opened the door. Ray closed the door behind her and turned back to Welsh. "Ok. I get the part where they make you take this chick for… whatever reason. She may very well be a good cop, but why do I have to baby-sit the newbie?"

"What’s so confusing, Detective? I told you she is your partner. That’s it. Take good care of her."

"But I’m fine without a partner."

"Yes, you are. It doesn’t change the fact that she’s here, though, does it? Look, truth is, Captain Walsh at the 8th asked me for a favour. I owe the guy. I’ve seen her records. She gets the job done, but she needs a little time with someone who’ll keep an eye out for her."

Ray threw his head back and grunted. "See? I’m a babysitter."

"That’s not what I mean by keeping an eye out for her," Welsh said firmly.

Ray looked back to Welsh, intrigued. "Oh?"

"You’re just going to make sure everything goes the way things are supposed to go, got it? Like I said, she’s good at the job so you just work and let her be a partner and that’s the end of it."

"The real Ray never had a partner," Ray groaned.

Welsh slapped his palm on the table in exasperation. "I am fully aware of you’re capabilities, Detective, but I’m not going to let you change my mind on this one."

"Does she know about the real Ray stuff?"

"No she doesn’t and we aren’t going to tell her."

"What happens if..."

"We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now get out there and do some detective work with your new partner, Vecchio. Huey and Dewey are staking out an apartment. Francesca has the information you need to take over for them. Get out of my office."

Ray grunted. "This sucks." He opened the door.

Welsh watched from his office as Ray walked to his desk, rubbing his forehead between his thumb and fingers. "Well, Detective Brooks, I guess we’re partners. Get me a cup of coffee."

She folded her arms in front of herself. "Oh, excuse me. Are your arms painted on? If you want coffee, get it yourself."

Fraser controlled a smile. Ray noticed. "What’d you come here for, Fraser?"

"Ah, I was given the rest of the day off from the Consulate so I wondered if I could be of any assistance to you."

"Oh, I guess. We have to go take over a stakeout for the Duck Boys." Ray looked up. "Frannie! Do you have the stuff Welsh asked for?"

"Yes, Ray, I’m not completely incompetent. It’s on your desk." She began walking toward his desk as he looked down.

"Where? I can’t see it."

She picked up a file and pulled out a cream coloured folder. "It was on your desk before you put that file on it. Pick something up to look around once in a while."

Ray squinted. "Look, Frannie, I…" he pointed a finger at her as she walked away. She waved with her hand and Ray knew there was no point in continuing.

Ray opened the folder and began to pull faces. "Ok, let’s blow this place."

"What’s going on?" Brooks asked.

"Nothin’"

"Look, buddy, I…"

"All right, all right. Don’t get worked up. Here." He handed her the file and she read as she followed Ray and Fraser out of the squad room. Diefenbaker was close behind.

Brooks didn’t even look up as she motioned to Fraser. "And this gentleman is involved…?"

"Oh, excuse me. My name is Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father and for reasons that don’t really need exploring, I remained attached as a liaison to the Canadian Consulate."

"Fraser helps out on cases involving Canadians, or wherever else he feels like sticking his nose in."

"Ah," Brooks commented and continued reading as they passed through the doors to the parking lot. Finishing the file, she handed it back to Ray. "I’m heading home first, pick me up there. I need to pick up a few things before we go." Throwing the helmet on her head, she aimed herself directly toward a black motorcycle in the lot.

"Huh?" Ray asked, confused.

"I thought for sure I’d end up on desk duty. I’m not exactly prepared. I just need to go home and change and grab a couple things, ok?"

"Fine, whatever," Ray replied with a wave. "Address?"

"One ninety eight Poppy apartment eight b."

"All right, we’ll see you there," Ray breathed.

Hopping onto the bullet bike she headed out before Fraser and Ray were even in the car. Ray frowned and glanced at Fraser. "Looks like a challenge."

Fraser looked confused until Ray threw the car into reverse and slammed the accelerator, then the brake while whipping the wheel the appropriate direction. Fraser held tight to the dashboard as Ray moved the gear into drive and slammed the accelerator again.

***

Pulling her hair back into a braid, Brooks heard a knock at the door. Taking the elastic from her mouth, she held it in her fingers as she continued.

"Ray?"

"Yeah!"

"It’s unlocked." She went into the bedroom and closed the door almost completely so they could still talk. She heard the door open and footsteps.

"Are you sure leaving your door unlocked is such a great idea?" Ray asked

"Probably not, but…" she let the sentence trail off. "Fraser there too?"

"Yes." Ray replied.

"Ok. You two make yourselves comfortable."

Fraser stood against the wall next to her couch and held his hat in the crook of his arm. Ray started looking around the apartment. He looked up and saw her whiz past the door, then he went back to looking his inventory. Noticing a large collection of CD’s next to a large stereo, he observed that she had many things in her collection that were the same as in his own, plus several he would never have dreamed of owning. He noticed she had a wide variety of tastes and began to walk around the room.

Stopping at the far wall, he furrowed his brow. There, hanging on it was a standard bullet proof vest which had been shot at in three places. "What’s this?"

"I can’t see," Brooks said, amused. "What?"

"The vest?"

There was silence for several minutes before she answered. "Oh, that. Uh, nothing." She came out in long pants and a shirt that came just to her waist so that, when she stretched out to pick up her bag, her midriff was bare. Ray turned just in time to notice a tattoo. It was of a sun with long wobbly rays around her navel which had a ring. She opened the bag and began throwing things inside. He also noticed another tattoo. It was on her arm and portrayed a fairy with butterfly wings stabbing a small blue dragon.

"So, how many tattoos to you have?"

She looked up with an unanswering smile and he noticed that the purple streak was more noticeable in the twists of hair. "So, explain the vest?"

She kept the smile and glanced at the door. "I’m ready. The rest of the equipment in the car?"

"Actually, Huey and Dewey already have things set up, but we’re ready."

She picked up the bag and swung it over her shoulder. "Let’s go then."

***

The three of them grabbed their things from the trunk of Ray’s car and headed up to the apartment. Huey and Dewey were playing cards when they entered. "Oh good. We’re outta here." Huey said. "Nothing’s new yet. He hasn’t been home since we got here."

Dewey stopped and eyed Brooks. "Who’s this?"

Huey chuckled. "Ray’s new partner."

"You knew?" Ray asked and only received more interference from Dewey.

"New partner?" he asked with a chuckle. "What’d you do wrong to get left with a new partner?"

"Excuse me?" Brooks asked.

"I dunno," Ray interjected. "What’d Huey do to get stuck with you? Must’ve been pretty bad."

Dewey looked unamused. "Very funny." Huey could see the tension and grabbed his partner, taking him through the door before more could be said.

"See ya," Ray replied, waving an irritated hand behind them as they left. "Ugh. It’s going to be a long night, I’ll bet."

Brooks took a seat near the window and looked out. "It’s that one, right?"

"Yeah," Ray replied as he sat at the table with Fraser. "So, what do you say? Ready for pizza?"

"Could you get me something with pineapple?" Brooks asked as she leaned into the scope to get a look at the room they were observing.

Ray smiled and pulled out his phone.

***

Several hours later they were still watching an empty room. There was an empty pizza box and two half eaten containers of Chinese food on the small table next to the bed. Ray rubbed his eyes and leaned back in the chair. "I don’t think this guy’s coming back. It’s almost morning."

"Calm down, Ray. This is where Welsh told us to be so let’s just give it some time." Brooks turned and saw Fraser had leaned back on the bed and fallen asleep.

Ray looked away and silence fell again until curiosity got the better of him. "So what was with the bullet proof vest?"

Brooks looked away. "Nothing."

"Come on. I know you want to tell me. You have the thing on your wall like some shrine or something. I know there’s a story."

"I really don’t want to talk about it." She straightened in her seat and stretched, again revealing her midriff. "Hey, ever been married?"

"I don’t want to talk about it." He sighed and looked away.

Silence fell.

"Her name was Stella. I really loved her. Still do. She’s amazing." He paused and saw her watching him, intrigued. "I wanted to have kids, she didn’t." He saw her nod, understanding. "Anyway, it’s not that interesting."

She nodded again and silence filled the room.

"So what brought you to us?" Ray finally asked.

"Uh," she let out a long breath. "I just didn’t want to be where I was. I needed to get away."

"That simple?"

She let silence build once again, then took another deep breath. "Yeah, that simple."

"Really? Because I could have sworn Welsh let it slip that you did something."

"What?" she asked, horrified.

"Ok, maybe he didn’t, but no one transfers to the 27th from the 8th for the hell of it."

"I did."

"Why?"

"For the hell of it." She looked at him, then turned back to the window. She could feel his eyes boring into her and she hated it. Finally letting out a breath, she glanced at her feet. "I killed a guy."

"You killed a guy?" Ray was floored. He took his chair close to Brooks so their knees were near each other and leaned toward her.

She cleared her throat. "He drew a weapon and I fired at him. I was only planning to wound him, but…"

"Did he fire at you?"

She nodded. "I, uh, I got hit in the shoulder with his fourth shot just as I fired my shot, that’s why I missed and killed him. He hit me three times in the chest before I even fired. If it wasn’t for that vest…"

"Ah, so that’s the story. But shouldn’t the vest have been kept in evidence or something?"

"Well, yeah, but once we had firm proof from the ballistics with the tape to determine that his shots were fired before mine and it was justified, I stole it from evidence lockup."

"How did you…?"

"I sneaked in, put it on, and walked out. Look, I’m not very happy about it now, but that vest reminds me every minute that I almost died. There wasn’t even a good reason to put it on that day. I just had a feeling and... I don’t want to talk about it."

"A feeling?"

She looked away. "So let me get this straight. This Bob fellow is suspected of murdering his wife. If we see him, he’s under arrest, right?"

"Yeah, but it would sure help if we found more evidence. We can’t search the hotel room until we’re sure that’s the one Bob is staying in. He’s been very hard to find since his wife was killed."

"So we’re actually only taking him in for questioning?"

"Basically."

She nodded and looked though the binoculars. "I think there is something fishy here."

Ray put on his glasses and looked through the telescope. "What’s fishy?"

"See the box on the nightstand?"

"Yeah, it’s a very plain box."

"There’s something about it."

"Huh?" Ray regarded her like a rookie and glanced behind him. Fraser was awake now, though now he was looking out the window in deep concentration on a subject obviously different from the one they were dealing with.

"It’s a feeling. Something in that box…" Brooks peered through the scope and examined the details of the box.

Ray nodded. "Well, it looks very plain to me."

"Look around the room, Ray. He’s living out of a suitcase. See over by the wall? I’d bet that little leather bag is for his razor and toothbrush and stuff, but even it is being kept on top of the suitcase. The only thing that is out is that box."

"So what? It’s just a box."

"Your wife just got murdered and you haven’t been home since. You left a note that said you were leaving her." She went over the details out loud for her own clarity. "You pack a few clothes and things and set up at a hotel. You keep your stuff close to the suitcase in case you have to make a quick getaway. Either that or you’re a clean freak. You leave a box on the nightstand, taking a chance it may be forgotten. Why?" She bit her lower lip in concentration.

"I don’t have time for these games."

"Do you keep a box on your nightstand?" she asked.

"There’s probably one under the other stuff on my nightstand."

Brooks let out a breath. "Ok, just go with me on this one. If you had something important in a box, there wouldn’t be much danger of forgetting it, right?"

"Then he’d leave it in the suitcase."

"Unless it’s something he has to get rid of. Something that requires phone calls, something…" She picked up the report and read over it. "The killer has her wedding band and stole some jewelry, but not the valuable stuff." She looked through the scope. "The stolen jewels are in there."

"That’s crazy," Ray scoffed.

"Actually it isn’t, Ray," Fraser broke in finally. "Putting something valuable in a plain box would seem a good way to keep the items safe without drawing attention. Perhaps he is planning to pawn the jewels, as a thief would do."

"And then get the hell out of Dodge," Brooks completed.

Ray smiled at them. "You’re both crazy."

"What do your instincts tell you, Ray?" Fraser asked.

"Uh…"

"It’s perfectly logical. The guy’s not that smart to begin with. It makes sense," Brooks added.

"So how do we prove it?" Ray leaned back in his seat.

"Well, I guess we wait. I mean, we gotta know the guy’s staying here before we can really speculate anything."

"Ok, maybe that’s my point. We don’t know anything to make assumptions," Ray stated.

Brooks tipped her head and glanced at Fraser. "We should keep our minds open, but not at the risk of missing something obvious."

Fraser nodded. "Correct. We’re not making hasty decisions, we’re just working with a hypothesis."

Ray shook his head. "You two are crazy. It’s crazy."

"Maybe," Brooks replied under her breath. "I need to make a phone call." She stood and picked up Ray’s phone from the table. "You mind?"

Ray waved his hand and shook his head, then watched her walk into the hallway. He turned, then, to Fraser and offered him Brooks’ seat. Fraser took it and Ray realized how close he had been to her, now taking a moment to move his seat back, but still keep close enough for confidence. "You know about this, Fraze?"

"Know about what?" Fraser asked.

"Her. My partner. You said back at the precinct that Welsh wanted to discuss it with me. You knew? Jack knew, but Dewey didn’t."

"I never engage in gossip," Fraser replied.

Ray looked confused. "What does gossip… Oh," he said with realization. "It was gossip that you heard without meaning to hear it?"

"Not exactly. I’d been waiting for you for several minutes when Francesca mentioned Detective Brooks transfer papers to me. She had apparently mentioned it to Detective Huey before he left because he had asked her whose partner she would be. Francesca asked me who she thought Leftenant Welsh would pair her with or would he let her work alone. I chose not to speculate, but the Leftenant told Francesca in my presence to make the arrangements for her to be your partner."

"So passing it on would have been gossip. Right," Ray confirmed, then let out a sigh. "What do you think of her?"

Fraser looked pensive. "She seems nice. Competent. Professional."

"Sure, but what do you think of her?" he asked again, this time adding an eyebrow trick and a suggestive grin.

Fraser cocked his head and Ray shook his own. "Never mind."

Brooks re-entered the room and handed the phone to Ray.

"Who’d you call?" he asked immediately.

Pausing a moment, Brooks decided to share. "Francesca is running some numbers on the value of the stolen jewelry."

"Why?"

"So we’ll know whether to ask around at a pawn shop or a money launderer?" she stated in the form of a question. "It’ll just give us a head start if this guy tries to sell the stuff." Detective Brooks picked up a soda can and took a sip.

Ray nodded. It made sense and had been a good move, though he chose not to tell her that. Glancing at his watch, he stood and stretched his arms. "Only 10 minutes to go before someone will be here to relieve us, right?" he said, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "Nothing’s going to happen tonight at least."

Brooks set the can down and moved quickly to the scope. "Try again," she said.

Ray turned to the window and Fraser joined in peering out. A light flicked on in the room across the street. The husband sauntered in looking little like the photo in the file. Instead of a clean cut smile, he had a two day growth on his beard, bags under his eyes, and wore a wrinkled tee with very wrinkled dress pants. He walked straight to his suitcase and took the small leather bag, then went into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, he came out. With the door to the bathroom left open, they could see he had left toothpaste, a toothbrush, and a comb beside the sink. He took the now empty bag and walked over to the table. His back faced the window as he picked up the box. They watched silently as his shoulders moved around. His arms were moving back and forth, but they couldn’t tell what he was holding. Finally he set the box back on the table and went back into the bathroom. Taking a moment to contemplate, he finally wiped a backhand across the counter, pushing the items into the garbage. He came out, put on his jacket, and slid the leather case inside before leaving the room.

Ray ran out first, Brooks close behind. Soon Fraser and Diefenbaker had passed Brooks and Ray. They stopped as they saw Bob exit the hotel.

"Now what?" Ray asked. "Should we follow him?"

Bob reached into his jacket and Brooks stiffened. "No time," she said just as she darted from the group, running as hard as she could into Bob. In one move, she fell to the ground and pulled out her gun as Bob smacked against the cement, sending the bag flying from his hand as he was taking it from his jacket. As if in slow motion, the bag fell next to the curb. It opened as it hit the ground and the jewels flew everywhere.

Ray cuffed Bob as Brooks recited his rights. Fraser collected the jewels -- including a small, gold wedding band -- and put it all back in the bag.

***

Brooks and Ray glanced at each other occasionally as they typed their accounts of the arrest. It was an unspoken race between the two and Brooks won. She had typing skills, though minimal, which already gave her the advantage over Ray and as she headed to Welsh’s office, printout in hand, Ray stopped in midsentence, typed THE END, and pounded the keys. Finally he looked to Frannie who came to the rescue, printing it in seconds.

When he entered Welsh’s office, Brooks was already seated in front of his desk bowing her head. Welsh looked a bit disturbed and set her report on the desk before looking up at Ray. Handing the paper to Welsh, who skimmed it, Ray then stepped back beside Brooks.

"It’s not even finished," he said.

"Who cares. You’ll sign it and slip it in that little file cabinet and no one’ll ever see it again anyway."

Welsh pursed his lips, signed the paper, and set it aside. "An interesting tactic, Detective," Welsh said in a serious tone to Brooks. "But I don’t want to see that kind of thing come through here again. We’re not vigilantes, we’re police officers."

"Yes sir," she replied.

"Ready to go?" Ray asked.

Brooks leaned back and looked up at Ray with a furrowed brow. "What?"

"Go? Home? End of work day, whistle’s blowing. Come on," Ray replied.

"Uh, oh yeah, you drove me," she said, realization finally hitting her. "I guess now’s as good a time as any."

"Before you go, stop in on the interrogation and give this to Huey," Welsh said, handing over a file.

"Sure," Ray responded, reaching for the folder. He tucked it under his arm and opened the door, letting it close on Brooks.

"Thanks, Ray," she groaned under her breath as she opened the door to follow him.

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

Ray motioned to Fraser who was now sitting beside his desk.. "C’mon, Fraser. Let’s get you back to the Consulate." Picking up Fraser’s hat without slowing down, he kept walking.

"Oh, thank you kindly," he replied, moving to his feet.

As they walked toward the interrogation room, Brooks began to make conversation. "So, you’re a Mountie? Where’s your horse?"

"In Canada, ma’am."

"Well, that isn’t very handy, is it?" she said with a grin.

"Not particularly, no."

Ray stopped in front of the door and carefully opened it. "’ere, guys. Welsh told me to bring this to ya."

"Thanks, Ray."

He popped back out and found he had missed part of the conversation.

"…well, there is an interesting anecdote about that, actually. You see, the Inuit believe…"

Ray looked back and forth between them. "What is this, what are you guys doing?"

"We’re getting to know each other, Ray. Take a chill pill."

"Hey, don’t say chill pill to me. I’m the one who decides who needs a chill pill." He turned away. "You need a chill pill," he finished under his breath.

Brooks rolled her eyes and continued walking out of the squad room. "What’s the matter, Prince Valiant, jealous?"

Ray looked at Fraser and gave his signature grunt. "She’s already under my skin Fraser. Better make sure I don’t shoot her."

They got out to the car and Brooks took the passenger seat. "Boy, you’re just a big baby, aren’t you?"

There was only an instant of silence. "Who, me?"

"Yes. You’ve had a chip on your shoulder since I got here, haven’t you? Is this all because I’m a woman?"

"Pft, huh, pft, of course not."

"Then what?

Ray mumbled to himself and started the car. Other than the engine, there was no sound. Finally Diefenbaker whimpered and Fraser leaned over.

"Yes, it is an uncomfortable silence, but I don’t believe it is something we should interrupt." Diefenbaker whimpered again and laid down.

"It’s a beautiful wolf, Constable," Brooks commented.

"Call me Fraser. Yes he is."

"It’s a wolf, Brooks, a wolf. They aren’t beautiful or not, they’re wolves. They eat people." Ray leaned his elbow out the window.

"Now, Ray, you know perfectly well they don’t eat people." Diefenbaker lifted his head again, then went back to sleep after Fraser spoke.

"Ray, you’re being a moron," she accused. "I just wanted to break the silence."

"Well, I don’t want to hear any more from you." Ray waved his hand and put it back on the steering wheel.

"You know, Ray, this reminds me of when I was in the far north and…"

"If this story has a bear or an otter in it, stop talking."

Fraser opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.

"Anybody else want to eat?"

Fraser offered a quick, "Yes, please."

Brooks shrugged. "Don’t care."

Ray grunted and turned into the parking lot of the nearest restaurant. Without asking preferences, Ray slid into a booth and Fraser waited until Brooks took the opposite side before scooting in beside Ray. Picking up the menu, Brooks began to browse. Ray tapped his fingers impatiently.

"Problem?" Brooks asked without looking up, obviously perturbed.

"Hurry."

"Don’t rush me."

"Hurry," Ray said with more agitation.

"Look, I’ve never eaten here."

"Well, I know what I want, why don’t we just order three?"

"No." Brooks looked up from her menu.

"Why not? They’re all basically the same; beef, lettuce, and a bun with a side of fries."

"I want to pick something myself. I am an adult. I can order, you know."

"Whatever. You know what you want, Fraser?"

"Yes, I believe so," Fraser said quickly, feeling as though he’d be left behind in conversation if he didn’t reply quickly enough.

"Ma’am!" Ray called.

"That is so rude. You know I’m not ready," Brooks gazed at him, piercing through his tough exterior.

The waitress approached. "I want a burger. Nuthin’ fancy," Ray said quickly, ignoring the fact that her look was disturbing his concentration.

"Ray," Brooks continued. "You are such a child. Can’t you wait a minute?"

"Order, Fraze."

"Well I’m not sure Detective Books is…"

"Fraser, order."

"…ready to…"

"Fraser, what are you getting?"

"…It isn’t polite to…"

"Well, then, tell me what you want."

"I was planning to order the special, but I’d prefer to wait until…"

"He’ll have the special and if she doesn’t order now, she’s not eating."

"Hello! What am I? Eight? Don’t talk about me like I’m not here! You are walking a thin line with me, buddy. You better watch to make sure I don’t poison your food." She turned to the waitress. "First off, could you spit on his burger? I’ll have the chef salad, but no red onions or radishes. Could you bring the dressing on the side?"

"Certainly." The waitress smiled, scribbled, and walked away.

Brooks glared at Ray. "Happy?"

"Extremely."

"Dopey," she said under her breath.

"What? Did you call me a dope?"

"No. I said dopey. I’m just naming dwarves."

Ray grunted.

"Forgive me, Constable, but I’m terrible with names. Was it Benjamin Fraser?"

"Benton."

"Isn’t that a last name?" she said as more of a statement than a question.

"It’s my first name."

"Hmm. Sounds like a last name."

"And what is your first name, Detective Brooks," Fraser asked as he brought a glass of water to his mouth.

"Tori."

"Tori? What a silly name," Ray added, waiting for her too argue.

"It’s short for Victoria."

Fraser coughed and spit out some water, then grabbed a napkin and quickly dabbed around the table. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Pardon me, I’m terribly sorry."

"It’s ok," Brooks replied as she dabbed some water from her face.

Fraser blushed a little and Ray laughed hysterically. He collected himself just enough to say, "I’m sorry, Fraze, but I’ve never seen anything so funny. You’ve never done anything like that before." He snickered and continued. "What was that all about?"

Fraser stood. "Excuse me, I have to go – this way – for a moment."

Ray continued to laugh, tapering off slowly. Brooks cleaned up the table and finished by straightening the salt and pepper shakers, then centering the napkin holder. Ray watched with interest. "A little anal?"

Brooks ignored him and began to read the ads posted on the windows by their table.

Fraser returned behind the waitress carrying the food. Following that, most of the meal was eaten with either silence or conversation through gritted teeth. Everyone concentrated on their food and they left quickly after eating. Ray left the restaurant and looked at Diefenbaker who was eyeing another dog on a leash. Fraser held the door for Brooks.

Ray leaned against the car, waiting for Brooks and Fraser to catch up. "C’mon you guys."

"What’s the rush?" Brooks said in a nasty tone.

"I’m just tired of waiting around for you. If you had your way, we’d be here all day."

"Why don’t you just shut up?"

Fraser opened the car door for Diefenbaker.

"Because this is more fun," Ray continued.

"You are such a pain," Brooks replied, waving her hand.

Ray grabbed her hand in the air. "Hey, don’t dismiss me like that. You have problems."

"I’m hardly the one with problems." She pulled her hand away and held the door while Fraser climbed in. Once he was safely inside, Ray pushed the door closed.

"Why don’t you take a flying leap?"

"What’s wrong with you? Learned all your insults in kindergarten?" she continued.

"Boy, you are just nuts, aren’t you!" He stood a step closer to her.

"Would you please tell me exactly what your problem is?" she firmed her stance and moved a stiff forearm in front of her chest. "I mean, I really haven’t done anything…"

"Look," Ray continued as he crowded her against the car. "I didn’t ask for a partner and you’re some tough girl who’s not as tough as she thinks. You’re crazy to think I’m falling for the tomboy routine."

"You don’t know anything about me, alright?" She tried to back away, but was against the car door so she couldn’t go far. "Besides," she began more defensively. "What do you call that gutsy move of running down our last criminal?"

"I call it a fluke. Running him down was the chicken way out. Just look at you. You’re kind of wimpy looking." Fraser could see the argument was heating up so he tried unsuccessfully to climb over Dief and get out from the other side of the car.

Brooks grabbed Ray’s shirt firmly and flipped him against the hood of the car so his feet weren’t touching the ground. He held his hands back, open in surrender, with his usual grin. "Ok, ok, things are getting a little heated."

"Heated! You haven’t seen me pissed yet, bubba! How dare you insult my very being, my professionalism, how dare you spout things you know nothing about!"

"All right. Let me go."

"And another thing, buddy, I am a damn fine cop!"

"All right." He was beginning to shout. "I don’t want to hit you."

"Why, because I’m a woman?"

"Well…" he said, trying to break free, but having no success.

"Hit me! I can take you! I’m not a coward and I am not a wimp!" Brook yelled into his face.

"I don’t…" His face began to redden and he tried to push her back.

"Go on. Prove you’re a man! HIT ME!" Fraser finally scrambled through the drivers door of the car.

All at once Ray turned his hand into a fist and threw it full force against her face. She fell back to the ground and Fraser rushed around the front to help her up, but she was already on her feet. Ray stood, challenging her. She ran toward him, but Fraser grabbed her, turned, and stood between the two.

Brooks cradled her jaw and opened her door, throwing Ray a threatening glance.

Fraser wanted to calm things. "I believe that…"

"Shut up, Fraser," Ray and Brooks said in unison.

There was more silence as they pulled out onto the road.

Ray saw a stop sign. He wanted Brooks out of the car as fast as he could so he looked up and down the crossing streets. When he knew it was clear he decided not to slow down. Fraser couldn’t hold his tongue. "Stop sign, Ray."

"I thought you were going to stop talking."

"Yes, but I didn’t think that would still apply when you’re about to disrespect a law."

"All right. Where’s the stop sign?"

"You just passed it," Brooks interjected.

"Then why are you telling me? I can’t stop if I already passed the sign."

"Well, you hadn’t passed it when I first mentioned it," Fraser added.

Ray chuckled.

"What’s so funny? You broke a law," Brooks continued.

"Oh, c’mon. I’m just having a little fun with the Mountie."

"I should arrest you," she said.

Ray scoffed. "It’s just a stop sign."

"But that was no reason to disobey the law or talk to Fraser like that."

"I’m sorry. See that stop sign? I promise to come to a complete stop and…"

"It doesn’t change the fact that you treated Fraser, your friend, in such a nasty way."

"It’s all right," Fraser said from the back seat.

"No it’s not. He ought to apologize."

"Well, I suppose that would be the chivalrous thing to do in this situation," Fraser said.

"Chivalrous? What is that? What is that language you use?" Ray smacked the steering wheel for emphasis.

"Why, it’s English, Ray. It means noble – or courteous," Fraser explained.

"If I promise not to spread my negativity will you two stop talking?" Ray said, holding his head.

Fraser nodded. Diefenbaker whimpered and closed his eyes. Finally they pulled up in front of the Consulate.

"I guess I’ll catch you tomorrow," Ray said.

"Yes," Fraser replied. "Perhaps later today, but it appears I’m late for a meeting with some Canadian officials." Fraser stepper out. "I see they’ve already arrived. She’ll have my head."

"Ice Queen?" Ray asked

"Inspector Thatcher, yes," Benton replied.

Ray rolled his eyes. "Good luck, Fraser."

Diefenbaker whimpered, then led the way inside.

"Why do you call her an Ice Queen?"

"Oh, uh, Inspector Thatcher? She’s his boss lady."

"Oh, and call her icy because she’s his boss?"

"No, she’s Ice Queen because she’s cold hearted."

Brooks looked away. "Oh, that makes sense. You know her then?"

"Well enough."

"Well enough to call her names, but not well enough to simply say yes, you know her."

Ray let the silence build, not wanting to deal with her editorial. Finally he felt he’d thought of something clever so he spoke. "So, am I dropping you off at the psychiatric ward?"

Brooks curled the right side of her lip into a smile, but just the one side so Ray couldn’t see. "That’s it buddy. I heard a rumor at the station that you box. Tomorrow morning, one hour before work, you and me."

Ray chuckled. "You’re on."

"Grand."

He stopped in front of her building. "Guess if I’m gonna be chivalrous I should walk you to your door."

"That’s not necessary."

"Mind if I do it anyway?"

Brooks opened her door. "You’re a free agent."

They took the elevator in silence, walked down the hall in silence, and stood in front of her door in silence. Finally she pulled out her keys. "You can go now."

"Oh, yeah, all right," he said and took a step back.

"Why'd you come up anyway?" she asked, stopping him in his tracks.

He thought a minute before turning to face her. "Dunno. Just seemed the thing to do." He paused. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and started walking again.

"Yeah," she said under her breath.

Ray heard the keys jingle against the door and turned again. "You know," Brooks stopped and turned to him, waiting. "It’s just that we’re going to be working together. I thought maybe we could come to some sort of truce."

"Inside my apartment?"

"Well, no. I meant to say it in the car, but I just kept stalling." He took a few steps toward her. "I’m not happy about getting a partner. It’s not personal."

"It sure feels personal."

Ray shrugged. "I guess."

Brooks shook her head. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Good night, Ray. I’ll try to be a little more personable tomorrow."

Ray smiled a little. "Ok. That’s all I can ask."

She waited for more, but he nearly turned to walk away. "You’ll try too," she commanded.

Ray cleared his throat. "Sure," he said, then started walking back to the elevator.

Brooks turned the key, opened her door, and flipped on the light. Ray was halfway down the hall when he heard, "Oh my god!" He stopped and turned back to see her silhouette frozen just inside the door. "Ray!"

Fraser hung up the phone and looked at Inspector Thatcher.

"I trust it was important if I received a call from Detective… what was his name?… in the middle of a meeting."

"Yes ma’am. Detective Vecchio needs… assistance… on an important matter… immediately." Fraser held his Stetson in his hands.

Thatcher searched his face, looking for a trace of insincerity. Finding none she sighed. "Very well Constable. Dismissed."

Fraser hurried away, leaving with proper respect for the others in the room.

***

As Fraser stepped through the door marked "STAIRS" he was greeted by the organized chaos of a crime scene. The hub of the confusion lay around the entry to Tori's apartment. "Stay," he said to Diefenbaker as he hurried down the hall. With a twinge of fear he hurried through the maze of officers and detectives questioning the tenants for possible leads. The words "Something happened. You’ve got to come to Brooks’ apartment," rang through his mind. He had to dodge a cameraman and a forensics cart in the doorway before he could get a clear view of the room. He could remember with much detail what the apartment had been like when he and Ray had picked up Brooks before the stakeout the night before. As he scanned the room he realized not a single thing was out of place. There was, in fact, only one new thing in the room – a dead woman. He could tell by the pallor of her skin and her transfixed stare that she was dead, but there was no obvious cause of death. All Fraser could think to say was "Oh dear." He looked up and saw Brooks standing with her arms folded talking to Huey and Dewey. Ray stood behind her, but just then, he looked up and saw Fraser. He made his way across the room.

"Hey Fraze. What a mess, eh?"

Fraser straightened his eyebrow with his thumbnail. "Yes. It appears to be. Who is she?"

"Dunno. Brooks doesn’t recognize her. They just finished the video and Davis took some extra photos… now they get to collect the evidence."

"How is Detective Brooks taking it?"

"Welsh gave the case to Jack and Dewey. She’s making sure it’s all done right. Won’t stay out of it."

"Did you need my assistance?"

"Nah. I just wanted you here in case we have to carry her outta here. She’s making Huey nuts."

The two of them made their way back to Brooks. By that time, Huey and Dewey were overseeing the team collecting evidence and Brooks had chosen one of the men in latex gloves carrying tweezers to follow.

"Look, there, a blonde hair. I don’t have blonde hair. Bag it and tag it," she said at the same moment the man noticed it and went after it with the tweezers.

"I got it, ma’am," he said in exasperation.

"Hey, don’t ma’am me, ok? I’m a Detective. I just want to make sure you get it all." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I’ll make myself useful." She turned and bumped into a taller figure. Tipping her head back slightly, she saw that it was Fraser. "Oh, sorry, Constable. I’m just going to get a pair of gloves."

Ray grabbed her arm. "It’s not your case, Brooks. You gotta let Jack and Dewey handle it."

She pulled away gently and ignored him. She was trying to get a pair of gloves from the box when Huey came up behind her. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Brooks."

She turned and started to put the gloves on. "I know what I’m doing."

"It’s not your case," Dewey added.

"I know what I’m doing," she said more firmly.

"Look, Brooks, get outta here." Huey grabbed her arm.

She pulled away and stepped back. "It’s under control, fellas, really, I’m just going to help."

"Don’t make us force you out," Huey continued.

She took another step back. "I got it, guys, I got it."

Ray moved past her and stepped up to Huey. "We’ll keep an eye on her ok? We’ll make sure she doesn’t mess anything."

Dewey straightened. "It’s not your case either, Ray."

"Come on, guys, cut her some slack. There’s a dead body in her apartment."

"Fine. Just make sure she stays out of the way until Welsh gets here," Huey advised.

"Welsh is coming?" Ray was a little surprised.

"Yeah, we called him. We figured with a dead body in one of our cops’ apartments… well, who knows. I mean, we don’t really know anything about her," Dewey explained.

Ray took a defensive stance "She didn’t do this."

"I’m sure."

"Well, first of all, she’s been with me for the past twenty four hours on your stakeout and paperwork."

Dewey pointed at Ray. "You never know. I heard she shot a guy. Could be hiding behind her badge."

"Nothin’ like jumpin’ to a conclusion," Ray replied. "We picked her up here and she hasn’t been out of my sight since. Explain that."

Dewey shrugged. "An accomplice?"

"Look, Ray, we got a body in her apartment with no sign of forced entry." Huey counted two points on his fingers. "We also got a white powdery substance on the kitchen floor we haven’t checked out yet, but I’ll bet it’s drugs. We also have a cop who may have shot a guy – rumor is it was unprovoked."

"I already know about that one. He shot at her first. Look, you guys stay outta my way and I’ll stay outta yours." With that, he hurried away, Fraser close behind. When they caught up with Brooks, she was examining the white powder on the floor in the kitchen. She touched the edge of the spot, sniffed, and tasted.

"Brooks!" Ray rolled his eyes. "Don’t go pullin’ a Fraser on me, ok? Don’t lick stuff."

"It’s heroin, Ray." Brooks stood and turned to the window over the sink.

"So, drug involved murder, what a shocker. C’mon, Brooks, Fraser and I’ll take you to dinner."

"We ate less than 2 hours ago, Ray. Look." She pointed to the window.

"Yeah, he came in through there, or left. Something. We’ll show Huey and Dewey so they can have their forced entry."

"Nope. The window only opens about 6 inches and I know it was closed when I left. It’s something they need to know."

"Let’s go get some coffee and you can write it all down for them."

"Ray, I’m the only one who will know what’s out of place here and they want me to leave? Anything could happen."

Just then three men in forensics jackets entered the kitchen.

"C’mon." Ray signaled toward the front room. "Let’s go talk to Michaels. She’s on the body. Maybe she can shed some light."

Brooks followed Ray and Fraser back to the living room. They saw Michaels making some notes into a tape recorder as she zipped the bag over the woman’s face with her free hand. She looked up and saw Ray. "I’m not talking to you about it." She nodded at two men who lifted the body onto a gurney.

"Aw, c’mon. I didn’t even get a chance to ask," Ray returned quickly.

"Huey and Dewey informed me it’s not your case. Makes it not your business." She tucked a lock of her brown hair back into the bun she had tied loosely on the back of her neck.

"What if I promise you dinner?" Ray said softly and smiled boyishly.

She smiled back, a flash in her brown eyes. "Try getting it out of your buddy Mort." She signaled and two men wheeled the body away.

Brooks watched it go out the door, then was distracted by Welsh’s large figure hovering in the doorway.

He stepped in and surveyed the scene. "Vecchio!"

Ray looked past Michaels. "Uh oh."

Welsh pushed his way directly to Brooks. "What are you still doing here? Huey and Dewey told me you’re refusing to leave."

Brooks straightened. "I’m not exactly refusing. I’m just not finished here yet."

Welsh sneered at Ray. "And what about you? Why are you here? I want all of you out of here. Take the Mountie with you!"

Brooks stood defiantly. "I’m not leaving."

Welsh grabbed her hands and ripped off the latex gloves. "I said get out. You are contaminating a crime scene and you are still a suspect. I don’t care what kind of alibi you have. Now, get out before I make you regret it!"

For the first time, Ray felt a touch of something to fear from Welsh. He leaned toward Brooks. "Let’s go get some coffee, Brooks. I think you need a break."

She ignored Ray and turned away from Welsh. Welsh grabbed her arm and swung her toward him. Anger rose and seeped through her voice. "You are not my master. I still have free agency to make decisions on my own! Let go of me this instant or I’ll be the one making you regret it!"

Welsh leaned close and Ray strained to hear him speaking softly and calmly near Brooks’ ear. "It’ll take me about one minute to make a phone call to your friends in internal affairs. Do I need to do that?" He straightened, let go of her arm, and turned to Ray. "Got your phone, Vecchio?"

"No, no, it’s all right." She cleared her throat and grunted. "I need a cup of coffee. Would you guys mind going with me?"

Ray furrowed his brow in question as Fraser put on his hat and led the way out of the apartment.

***

They sat in a quiet corner of the diner. Ray and Brooks ordered coffee, but Fraser asked for water. As the waitress walked away, Ray asked for a slice of cherry pie with whipped cream. It was very silent for several minutes. The waitress returned and poured the coffee.

Finally Brooks spoke. "There’s something strange about this whole thing."

Ray sighed. "Don’t think about it, Brooks. Huey and Dewey are good guys. They’ll figure it all out and clear you."

"It is strange, don’t you think, though? She was left in a cop’s apartment. Are they trying to frame me or was it just a coincidence?"

Ray put a little sugar in his coffee and took a sip.

"I think it was planned this way," she continued. "Whoever killed her had a key. They must have had a key to get in without a trace. Besides, neighbors notice things like guys with a body slung over their shoulders and a crowbar trying to open a door."

"I mean it, Brooks, don’t dwell on it. We don’t even know who the victim is. We can’t start without that."

"Maybe she’s an addict and her boyfriend dumped her so he wouldn’t get busted for her accidental overdose."

"Unlikely," Fraser cut in. "She did not have signs of a drug addiction."

"He’s right," Ray added. "No track marks."

"There is something very odd about…" she trailed off in deep thought.

Ray realized it was time to take her mind off the body back in her apartment. He searched for a subject that seemed trivial enough. "So, Victoria? What’s the story behind that name?"

Brooks poured one creamer packet into her coffee, then turned the sugar dispenser upside-down as she spoke. "It’s a tradition in my family. The first daughter of the first daughter is to be named after a queen or ruler." She returned the sugar to the table and began to stir. The coffee almost looked thick with sugar. She took a sip.

"Sweet enough?" Ray said sarcastically.

She nodded casually. "My mother’s name is Isabella and her mother was Elizabeth. I plan to name my daughter Alexandra – as in Romanov."

Fraser stared at his water, unblinking.

Ray and Brooks noticed him at about the same time. Brooks spoke first. "What, Constable? No stories about a beaver named Vicki?"

Fraser snapped up and looked at them. "I, uh…" He took a deep breath. "I knew a Victoria once. She…" His mouth continued to open and close, but no sound came out.

"Wow, Fraze, first time I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words," Ray interjected.

Fraser frowned. "No, it just isn’t important."

"You sure?" Ray asked. "Sure seems important."

Fraser shook his head. "It isn’t important to the conversation."

"That never stopped you before," Ray teased.

Fraser tried to look amused, but couldn’t.

Ray saw that it was time to change the subject. "We’re still on for boxing tomorrow, right? I can’t wait to beat you down."

She scoffed. "Yes, Ray, we’re on. I can hardly wait to put you in your place."

***

Fraser walked into his office and heard a loud humming come from his closet. Setting his hat on his desk, he sighed and cocked his head at the door. Running his thumbnail along his eyebrow, he knew he had to be up early the next morning. He had promised to witness the boxing match and it had already been such a long day. Sighing again, audibly this time, Fraser opened the closet door. He stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind himself.

Robert Fraser was humming loudly as he listened to a record and scribbled at his desk. He looked up. "Hello there, son."

Fraser took a step forward. "What are you doing, Dad?"

"Writing. I’ve forgotten to write in my journals for, well, who knows how long."

Fraser rolled his eyes. "What could you be writing? You’re dead."

"I know that, son. Must you continually rub it in?"

"I’m tired, Dad. Can’t we get this over with?"

"What’s that, son?"

"There’s a new woman. It’s your turn to remind me you want a grandchild so I can say there’s nothing between us and you can pout."

"Nothing of the kind, son. Although…"

"Then why are you here?"

"I told you, I’m writing my journals."

Fraser stood confused for a moment. Finally Bob continued. "Maybe you needed to talk to me."

Fraser sat in the chair beside the fireplace. "Her name is Victoria."

"Oh god, not her again. I’ve told you son…"

"No, not her. Ray’s new partner. Her name is Victoria. The name makes me think of… of her, though."

"She was no good, son. No good at all."

"I know, Dad, but she gave me something I’d never had before. Something I’ll never have again." He began to look off into the distance.

"Are you sure of that, son?"

Fraser snapped out of the trancelike state and sat up.

Bob continued. "It didn’t work out with her because she didn’t understand you, but this girl does. She understands more than you know, son."

Fraser looked skeptical. "We’re nothing alike, Dad. Besides, she’s so emotional."

"The only emotion I see is anger, Benton. She’s more like you than you want to accept."

Fraser scoffed. "I have to be up early Dad."

"All right, Son, but remember a couple of things."

Fraser raised his eyebrows in anticipation.

"She figured out about the jewels by using logic, didn’t she?"

Benton nodded. "Anyone in this profession must use logic in order to form working hypotheses."

Robert nodded and folded his hands. "She seems a little out of her element here, though, doesn’t she? Perhaps a little lonely?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary that I noticed."

"You should ask her about that." Robert continued. "Maybe just a little like yourself."

Benton stood and left without another word.

***

Fraser stood back, holding his hat as he watched Ray bounce around in his corner of the ring.

Ray’s "CHAMPION" tattoo flexed as he saw Brooks come out of the locker room. She had on a short sleeved, midriff revealing shirt that gave him a better look at her pierced navel and tattoos. He also noticed as she put her leg through the ropes that her shorts revealed one more tattoo – this time it was a swarm of butterflies in different colours, sizes, and positions. She stood tall in her corner and gritted her teeth.

"We don’t have much time, so let’s just fight until you give up," Ray taunted.

"You’ll be in a ball crying, hot shot."

"Fraser, would you be our bell?"

The fighting began and Ray was a little surprised when her first punch sent him against the ropes. She came up on him and started pounding before he had a chance to catch his breath. After he lost count of the punches, he tucked his head behind his gloves and pushed off the ropes. He got in several good punches, but as he reached out for a definitive punch, she ducked and got him square on the chin. His head went back and he reached out to catch his balance, at which point he felt several blows to his abdomen. He hit the mat and she stepped back. "Finished, big boy?"

He stood. "Just holding back," he replied, short on breath.

He unleashed himself and the fighting was a little more even. It ended when they were both exhausted and had called a truce. Brooks limped off to one locker room while Fraser followed Ray into the other. Ray changed with great difficulty.

"Do you feel better?" Fraser asked, finally.

"A little." He groaned as he pulled his shirt over his head. "I’m not some Neanderthal, y’know. I can handle a woman cop, but she is something else. I’ve never seen one that can box like that."

"You’ve never seen a woman box?"

"Well, ok, yeah I have, but that chick was psycho, and not too pretty."

"Ah, so Detective Brooks is different because she is attractive?"

"No, I mean yes. I mean, she is attractive," he smiled as he looked off in the distance, then looked back at Fraser, "but that isn’t what makes it different." He pulled on his pants with another grunt.

"Ah. Understood," was Fraser’s reply.

***

As they drove to the station, Brooks examined her jaw in the cosmetic mirror. A bruise had developed from the punch she’d taken from Ray the day before and there was a tell tale redness on her eye. She glanced over at Ray who was deep in concentration on the road and saw that not only did he have a split lip, his jaw was also red. ‘Good. He’ll have a bruise too,’ she thought. ‘He deserves it, the little weasel.’

Ray’s phone rang and he pulled it out with one hand while turning a corner with the other. "Vecchio."

She could hear Welsh’s voice through the earpiece.

"Where the hell are you?! You and Brooks shoulda been here half an hour ago!"

"We’re on our way. We’ll be there in ten minutes."

"If you want to make me happy, you’ll be here half an hour ago…" With that, Ray hung up the phone and concentrated again on the road. The phone rang again and he ignored it for several rings. Finally the ringing stopped and he heard Francesca come in on his radio.

"You two better get in here fast. Welsh is fuming."

"Thanks, Frannie. You’re pretty good at that observation stuff," Ray replied.

"He wants to see Brooks in his office as soon as you guys get here."

Brooks sighed. "Thanks, Francesca."

They pulled into the parking lot and Brooks jumped out of the car as it pulled to a stop. Ray was close behind while Fraser and Diefenbaker took a moment to catch up.

Francesca looked up from her desk as they walked by. "Gee, what happened to you guys?"

"What?" Brooks asked.

"Ray’s cut lip, you’ve got a bruise on your face. You two luke it out?"

"Luke? Frannie it’s duke." Ray was perturbed.

"Luke, duke, fluke, whatever!"

Ray turned to Brooks. "Want me to join you in his office?"

"Naw. I guess I have to go in by myself and face up to it." She turned toward Welsh’s office, then paused. "When he’s really pissed like that, should I be afraid?"

Ray turned a moment and saw Welsh red-faced, yelling into the phone. "Uh, yeah."

She took a deep breath. "He wouldn’t kill me or anything, would he?"

"Naw," Ray replied. "He’ll just string you up for a couple hours."

Frannie watched the conversation with interest. "What’s going on?"

"Nothing, Frannie."

"C’mon, I’m interested." She turned to Fraser for answers and Ray repeated himself

"Nothing, Frannie."

"Is that all you have to say? Where’s the sarcasm?" she asked, finally letting it drop.

"I don’t have any right now. Maybe later." He headed toward his desk just as Welsh came out of his office.

"Vecchio! It looks like this better be with both of you."

Ray raised his eyebrows and followed Brooks into the office. Fraser and Dief followed also.

Welsh sat at his desk and looked up. When he saw Fraser had joined them, he grunted, but made no more mention of their presence.

"I’ve got a real mess here. IA is already involved. Sorry, Brooks. Looks like you are out of commission for a while."

"Pardon?!" Brooks stepped forward.

"I’m going to have to ask you to leave your shield when you leave my office. It already leaked out that you stuck around the crime scene. You are to have no further involvement."

She tossed her shield and reached for her gun.

"You can’t contact Ray either."

"Why would I want to?"

"Ray is still allowed access to the case. Where’d you stay last night?"

"A hotel, why?"

"No access to your apartment until this is cleared up. Better leave the hotel and room number with Miss Vecchio."

"What!? All my stuff is there, my clothes, my… my…"

"I know, but it’s not my discretion."

Brooks slammed her hand on the nearest object, a chair. "I can’t afford a hotel for who knows how long. The department going to pay for it?"

"Sorry, Detective," Welsh replied. "They’re checking out everything on you. I’m getting the distinct impression that Captain Walsh wasn’t straight with me about you."

Brooks looked fierce. "He was, I assure you. They’re not going to find anything you couldn’t find."

"You sure about that?" Ray asked. "IA can be pretty thorough."

Brooks turned the angered look on Ray. "Trust me. I know just how fucking thorough they can be."

Welsh’s phone began to ring. He glanced at it, then looked back to Ray. "Ray, you are personally responsible. The boys upstairs are making me make sure you keep your nose buried in another case."

Ray grunted.

"There is no mention of contact with the Mountie, though," Welsh said more softly.

Ray grinned boyishly. "So which case am I supposed to be buried in?"

"Frannie’s got the file."

"Well, I’m her ride so I guess she’ll be ok if she’s with me until I can take her to her hotel?" Ray asked.

Welsh thought a moment and shrugged. "Just don’t let the big guys see her."

They went out and asked Fran for the file Welsh had referred to. She handed it to Ray and leaned back in her chair. "So, you managed to come out alive, eh?" she asked Brooks.

Brooks glowered and nodded her head dismissively.

Fraser leaned over Ray’s shoulder to look at the file with him.

"What’s the case?" Brooks asked.

"Dead guy," Ray responded.

"What do we know? Did he have a record?" she continued.

"Petty theft. Nothing worth getting whacked."

"Hmmm," Fraser looked up and saw the two Detectives looking at him.

"What’s hmmm?" Ray asked.

"Nothing."

"Listen, Fraser, spit it out. Don’t go hmmming me and then say ‘nothing’. You know that makes me crazy."

"Understood. I think we should start in the morgue."

"Ugh, not the morgue," Ray sighed. "I’m not going down there. There’re dead bodies down there."

"You’re kidding me, right?" Brooks said. "What the hell are you doing in this line of business if you can’t stand a body or two now and then?"

Ray pointed a finger. "Hey, I don’t have to like dead bodies. I’ve already seen one this week. Don’t harsh on me!" They locked in a stare momentarily and Ray continued. "Besides, it’s not the bodies so much as the morgue. Cold room just filled with them? The entire purpose of the place is about poking and prodding, ugh," he finished, adding a shudder before grunting and walking past her, following Fraser to the morgue.

As they neared the morgue they heard an opera rendition that – wasn’t terrible.

"Good morning, Mort." Fraser spoke pleasantly. "Do you have anything for us yet?"

The man had a thick accent. "Some of the information is written down over there." Mort pointed to an empty gurney.

"Peculiar," Fraser said with his nose in the file.

"What’s peculiar, Fraser?" Ray made sure his eyes had no chance of wandering toward the body on the table in front of Mort by walking around the room, facing the wall at all times.

"Hmmm, bullet to the chest, huh? But what’s this?" Brooks said as she examined the chest of dead body.

"You are…?" Mort asked, his accent was strong.

"Detective Brooks, Detective Vecchio’s new partner."

"Nice to meet you."

Brooks smiled. "You too. Do you know what it is?"

Mort leaned in. "It looks as though he was injected just before he died."

Fraser leaned in and smelled deeply.

"What do you smell?" Brooks asked.

"Salt?" Fraser replied, incredulously.

"Salt?" Brooks was equally confused.

"Salt?" Ray chimed in. "Someone injected salt in this guy?"

"Salt water," Mort replied. "It must be. Shall I test?"

"Yes, Mort. Can we go, Fraze? He’s going to test it."

Brooks walked around to Ray. "If your delicate senses can’t handle this then maybe you should go back to your cushy desk while I handle this."

"You can’t, remember? Get away from the body, girlie." Ray had already learned how to get on her nerves and grinned boyishly.

She snarled like an animal, causing Ray to looked confused, then she turned back to the body. She noticed Fraser looking at her and growled at him also. Fraser turned and picked up the shoe from the table where the man’s clothing was carefully folded. He sniffed the sole, then his tongue darted out in a quick taste. Brooks immediately grabbed the shoe. "What the hell was that?" she said disgusted, then smelled the sole herself and looked back at Fraser. "What did it taste like?" she asked with fascination.

"It tastes like the lake they call Michigan."

"Lake Michigan?" she asked as she examined the shoe with a careful gaze and a sniff.

"Yes, the lake they call Michigan," he confirmed.

She looked up. "Lake Michigan," she told him.

"Right, the lake…" he began again.

"Let him have it, Brooks," Ray said. "Trust me, it’s just easier."

She nodded. "Uh, so the shoe tasted like Lake… the lake?"

Fraser nodded.

"What’s that? What does that mean?" Ray accidentally turned, saw the body, and turned quickly back against a file cabinet.

Brooks rolled her eyes. "It means he was at the lake."

"Well, no kidding. He washed up on the shore or something, right?"

"Yes," Mort replied. "It’s fairly easy. Someone shot the man, then pushed him into the lake and he managed to wash ashore."

"But why the injection?" Ray asked.

"It is certainly a valid question, Ray," Fraser cocked his head. "Mort, would you see what you can deduce?"

"Certainly," Mort replied. "I’ve already removed the bullet. Ballistics should currently be locating the serial number of the gun from where it came," Brooks again noted the strong accent as he enunciated each word.

Fraser nodded. "Thank you, kindly, Mort. We will return later."

"Where are we going?" Ray turned, keeping his eyes locked on Fraser.

"I believe the most prudent course of action would include tracing that gun," Fraser replied.

Ray flipped open his phone and started dialing. "I’ll find out what they know right now."

Brooks began to look around and saw another body wheeled into a corner. Fraser was intent on Ray’s conversation and Mort had returned to his body. She walked slowly over to the gurney and peeked under the sheet. It was the woman from her apartment. She looked once more to make sure everyone was preoccupied and opened the file on her chest.

Name: Muriel Stover

DOB: March 24, 1960…

"I’m not sure that is entirely ethical." She jumped as Fraser spoke from behind her.

She flipped the folder closed as she spun around. "I was just…"

"That is the woman from your apartment, correct?"

She took a breath. "Yes."

"Ray and I are ready to go," he said with no further mention.

She followed them from the room and stopped Ray in the hall. "What’d you find?"

"Uh, not much," he began. "The gun was reported stolen by a Sam Walters last week. Mort says the body is 7 days old and the gun was stolen 7 days ago. Guess we go talk to Sam Walters."

"And where do we find him?" Brooks asked.

"Try his house, first I guess," Ray replied, not slowing down.

"May I suggest we find out if he works near the lake?" Fraser added.

"Why?" Ray questioned.

Fraser started walking toward the exit while Ray and Brooks exchanged confused looks. They caught up in only a moment.

Brooks looked at Fraser. "You tasted something else, didn’t you? Something helpful?"

"Fish," Fraser replied plainly.

"Fish?" Ray and Brooks chimed in unison.

"I believe so, yes. There wasn’t a lack of mud indicating that he was more than likely where the fishermen dock their boats and for some reason he was on one of those boats."

"But there are several places… are you saying we have to go to each one by one?" Ray asked, sounding defeated.

"It’s a place to start. We can ask a few informal questions. Perhaps Sam Walters works down there and someone can help us find him." Fraser continued to the car.

***

After a couple hours of questioning, Ray was ready to give up. He was tired of dragging a cop with no authority, a Mountie, and a wolf around the docks.

"We’re not done, are we?" Brooks asked as Ray grunted his disapproval.

"We’ve been through the register of boating establishments. I’m about ready to drop you in the lake so I don’t have to deal with you on the ride home."

"First of all, what home? I’m going to have to spend my life savings to stay in that hotel. Secondly, we’ve been to every legal dock. Aren’t there illegal, secret ones?"

"If they were illegal, they’d be pretty careful to make sure I, a cop, wouldn’t know about them."

"What kind of cop are you? Don’t you have secret informants?" Brooks challenged.

Ray furrowed his eyebrows and spoke like a manual. "We are not encouraged to have informants."

"Call them."

"I just said…"

"Call them, him whoever you got."

"No."

"No?"

"If I call them, you might steal them for yourself."

"Oh for crying out loud! Stop the car, get out, use your little cell phone and make the call – out of my earshot."

Ray made a face and pulled over. She watched as he stood outside the car flailing his free arm around, hanging up, dialing, and flailing again.

"What a freak," she said.

"You know, he really isn’t a bad guy, once you get to know him. Perhaps you should give him a chance."

She rolled her eyes. "So what are your thoughts on the case?"

Fraser cocked his head. "It seems convenient that the gentleman in question noticed his gun was missing an hour after the crime at which time he reported it stolen."

"I know Sam Walters did it. I meant about the body in my apartment."

"Welsh made it very clear…"

"Forget that. C’mon, informally, what are your thoughts?"

Fraser let out a breath. "I’m not sure there is enough information to come to any conclusions quite yet."

"Something’s really bothering me. Muriel Stover is her name. She’s about 37. Stover… Stover," Brooks looked at her hand as if it had answers.

"I’m afraid I don’t see any significance," Fraser said, leaning forward.

"Neither do I… yet."

Ray opened his door and climbed inside. "Well, looks like our best bet is to get this guy this evening. I’m ready for a lunch break. How about you?"

Brooks sighed. "I suppose."

***

Diefenbaker hid under the table as the three took their seats. They were in their own little worlds for several minutes until Fraser finally spoke. "I’ve eaten meals with you an awful lot recently."

"The past couple days have been busy," Ray replied as he searched his menu.

Brooks sat in silence, not even looking at the menu. After several minutes, the waitress appeared.

"What can I getcha?" she spoke kindly.

Ray ordered a burger and Fraser was quick to add another. They looked at Brooks for several seconds before Ray nudged her. "Brooks?"

She jumped out of her trance. "Oh, I’m sorry. Uh, do you have a turkey club?"

The waitress nodded.

"I’ll take one with chips." She turned her attention back to the mesmerizing overturned coffee mug.

"Something wrong, Brooks?" Ray asked.

"Brooks?" Fraser added, looking at her intently, then trying his repetitive trick that always worked on Ray, eventually. "Tori, Tori, Tori, Tori…"

She jumped again and Ray spoke. "What’s up?"

She shook her head as if ridding it of cobwebs. "Huh?"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, uh. You know, Stover is a very familiar name. I’m sure I knew her."

This time Ray was confused. "What?"

"The name of the corpse was Muriel Stover. Stover… Stover."

"How’d you find that out?" Ray asked

"I’m afraid Detective Brooks managed to get a peek at her file in the morgue today," Fraser replied.

"Leave it alone, Tori," Ray warned. "I know when you can push Welsh and when you can’t and this is definitely a ‘can’t’."

She tried not to think about it. They ate lunch, Ray and Fraser taking control of most of the conversation. Once in the car, Brooks finally spoke again. "Where are you going to take me then?"

"I’m sure I could arrange accommodations at the Consulate, if that might be acceptable." Fraser inserted.

"It would be appreciated." Brooks said hopefully.

"She’ll never make it past the Ice Queen." Ray snickered and made a face.

"I’m sure if I explained the situation…" Fraser leaned forward just as Dief whined. He turned to the wolf in surprise. "Well, she can be perfectly reasonable."

Ray pulled up in front of the Consulate. "I’ll wait out here while you try to explain it to her, Fraze. Good luck."

They went inside and Fraser led the way directly to Thatcher’s office.

Meg looked up and saw the two people in her doorway and stood. "Constable Fraser."

"Sir," he confirmed

"I’ve been looking for you," she said.

"Sir?" he questioned.

"Come in."

He stepped aside and put out an arm to motion Brooks in. She stepped inside despite Thatcher’s annoyed and confused glance. Fraser followed and closed the door.

"Sir, this is Detective Brooks."

"Why do you insist on befriending the entire Chicago Police Force, Fraser?" She asked as she put out a hand and shook Brooks’ hand.

"This isn’t going to be as easy as you thought, I see." Brooks said quietly to Fraser.

"It isn’t that I have anything against the Police or the Americans. I just don’t.… What do you mean ‘easy’?" Thatcher stepped back.

"Oh nothing," Brooks replied. "It’s just that I need a place to say and I was warned the ‘Ice Queen’ might be a little cold. I guess that would be you."

Fraser tugged his collar and Thatcher looked appalled.

Brooks continued. "I mean, it’s not that I have a problem with Canadians or anything…" She shot a dirty look to Thatcher who returned it promptly. "After all, you don’t even know why I’m here."

Thatcher relaxed slightly. "I suppose you are right, Detective. Why are you here?"

Fraser turned to Brooks. "Please, allow me to take it from here," he half-pleaded. "There was a body found in her apartment last night. She is in need of accommodations for a few days."

"I was not aware this was a hotel, Fraser," Thatcher said coldly.

"No, sir, but I thought that since we are in a tight spot she could spend the night in my office and I could…"

"You know something, Fraser? If I refuse you will talk and talk until I am forced to give you an order and then you may very well go ahead and do it anyway, won’t you?"

Fraser thought about it a moment and nodded.

"Fine, whatever. As soon as this business is cleared up, however, I don’t want to see her here again."

"Understood," Fraser replied and guided Tori from the room.

He led her to his office and showed her around the tiny place as if it were a mansion. He opened the closet and brought down the blankets, then set them on the desk. Just then, Bob Fraser came from the closet.

"Thanks, Fraser. I’m sorry if I was out of line in her office. She is quick to judge, huh?" Brooks said as she looked at the things on his desk.

"Out of line?" Bob asked. "What did she do?"

"Think nothing of it," Fraser said, ignoring his father.

Brooks smiled. "I have to admit. The look on her face when I called her an Ice Queen was priceless."

Bob stood straight with a half-smile. "She did that? She’s feisty son. Have you noticed how stubborn she is yet? It makes life more interesting."

Fraser turned and whispered a "Da-ad."

"Pardon?" Brooks said as she picked up a photo.

"Oh," he cleared his throat. "Nothing, just…" he cleared it again. "Something…"

She nodded and returned her attention to the picture. "Is this you’re father? Handsome. Looks like you."

"She’s smart, too, son. Good taste."

Fraser rolled his eyes. "I’m going to leave you now. Ray is waiting."

"Wait, Ben," she caught herself when he straightened. "Fraser… What am I supposed to do now?"

Fraser shrugged oddly. "Whatever you’d like," he replied and opened the door.

"Don’t you ever worry about ending up alone?" Bob said quickly before Fraser could get away.

Fraser froze in his tracks.

"Problem Constable?"

He stared at the closet door for a moment, then came to. "Ah, no, none. I’ll see you this evening."

Brooks nodded and sat behind the desk.

***

Brooks looked around the office, completely unaware of the being watching her. She saw a grouping of notebooks and some paperwork. Letting out a breath, she knew what she had to do.

Knocking softly on Thatcher’s door, she was invited in with a quiet, "Enter." When Thatcher saw Brooks, she frowned. "What now?"

"I didn’t come here to get you riled," Tori said, helping herself to a seat.

Thatcher still looked irritated. "Oh."

Brooks cleared her throat and swallowed her pride. "I’m sorry that I called you, well, I overheard someone else call you that and I just wanted to anger you because you seemed so judgmental of me."

Thatcher let out a breath and softened slightly. "Not that it’s an excuse, but you caught me at a bad time." She paused. "Who called me that? Constable…"

"No, no. Of course not."

Thatcher smiled slightly. "Oh."

Brooks smiled, trying to ease Thatcher’s mood. "Perhaps later when you could use a break w can talk about that look you gave him when he asked if I could stay in his room."

Thatcher pursed her lips and waved a hand, dismissing her.

***

It was late when Brooks heard Ray and Fraser both come through the door into Thatcher’s office. They froze in the doorway when they saw what was inside. Thatcher was at her desk holding five playing cards. Brooks had her feet up on the other side of the desk with five cards of her own. Thatcher immediately dropped her cards while Ray stood slack-jawed and Fraser stood stoic.

"Uh, welcome back, gentlemen." Thatcher stood as she spoke.

Fraser took a moment to reply. "Good evening, ladies," he was finally able to say.

Brooks looked at her cards. "Probably for the best, Meg. I had all four sevens." She set her cards down.

Thatcher couldn’t resist taking a brief look and smiling as she came around her desk. "I guess it is time for you to turn in." She gathered her coat and purse and made a hasty exit.

"So what happened today?" Brooks asked as she stood and straightened her blouse.

Fraser shook away the image in his head as Ray found the words to speak. "Well, we found another body. Actually, a guy found the body, but it also had a bullet wound and was injected with salt water. We got some freaky killer with a bizarre MO."

"Really? How intriguing," Brooks looked deep in thought.

"Uh, look, guys, I gotta go. Welsh says he’s keepin’ an eye on me real close and I’m supposed to report back before heading home."

"’Night, Ray," Brooks said dismissively.

Ray hurried away and Fraser walked Brooks to his office. Brooks was the first to speak.

"I’ve got to know what’s going on with that case, Fraser, and you’re the only one who can help me out."

"I’m not sure I see how…"

"Neither do I, but if I figure it out, will you help me?"

"Welsh made it clear that…"

"I’m begging, Fraser. Look, if you don’t help me out then I’ll stick my nose in the squad room and that’ll be the end of me. Are you going to make me do that?"

Fraser squirmed a moment.

"I’ll never tell anyone you helped and I’ll never ask for another favour."

Fraser looked sympathetic. "It would be wrong…"

She touched his arm gently. "Please, Fraser. I just… I mean, it was my apartment… my apartment. As it is, I don’t see how I’ll ever feel safe again."

Fraser looked deep into her eyes and felt a strange tug at his heart. "All right," he said finally. "Meet me at 3:00 in the broom closet at the station. I’ll bring you anything I can find out. Be careful."

"Thank you… Ben." She turned and headed into the office.

Fraser followed and closed the door. "Can we talk?" he asked.

Brooks looked surprised, but took a seat behind his desk. "What about?"

Benton leaned on the windowsill. "You." He folded his arms and she felt an interrogation coming on. Fraser had started to feel confined by her requests. He bit the inside of his lip, then looked deeply concentrated on her. "Detectives Huey and Dewey have a high arrest record. I happen to know they’ll find the killer. Now, I understand it was your place of residence, but you seem awfully determined to cause trouble."

"I’m not causing trouble, Ben," she said, using the side of her hand against the desk to make point. "I want to know what’s happening, I want to feel safe there again, and I want my life back."

Fraser furrowed his brow. "Your life back?"

Tori straightened and bit her lip as if she hadn’t realized what she’d said. "I mean, my apartment."

"How long have you lived there?"

"What do you mean?"

"Francesca said you came from the 8th precinct. If you were living in that apartment, that was a long commute, wasn’t it?"

"I just moved in," she paused. "Hence all the boxes?"

Fraser nodded. "Then why is your life wrapped up in the apartment?"

Brooks swallowed. "I meant I wanted my apartment back."

"That isn’t what you said," Fraser leaned forward a little. "Something’s wrong."

"It’s none of your business." Brooks looked away. "Even if there was something," she added quickly.

"Ah," Fraser said, speaking volumes. His father had told him she was out of her element, something was missing. He wondered now what it was, certain more that his father had been right.

Brooks looked at him. "What does that mean?"

"Perhaps you’d like to tell me," he replied.

Tori tucked a few stray hairs behind her ear. "What about you? What’s your story? Why’d you become a Mountie?"

Fraser was a bit surprised, but unfolded his arms and put his hands in his lap. "My father was a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Tradition?"

"Yes. I wanted to protect the Inuit people I grew up around."

"Ah, small town boy."

Fraser nodded. "Very small."

"That explains a lot." Tori smiled.

"You became an officer of the law because…?"

Brooks let out a long breath. "I’m not sure." She looked at him and saw that he waited for more. "I watched my sister get killed by thugs because I thought I was doing the right thing by exposing them."

"After you became a police officer?"

"No, in college actually. It’s quiet convoluted, but the point is, they knew I was going to expose them so they threatened her. I tried to stop them, I even told them I wouldn’t testify, but they shot her."

"In your presence."

"Right before my eyes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I dropped out and spent a lot of time trying to find the best way to destroy my life, but I finally figured out that the only way to make up for what I’d done was to put them and everyone else in jail."

"It wasn’t your fault. They killed her, not you."

"My hand wasn’t on the trigger, but it might as well have been." Tori shrugged, acting like it was nothing when Fraser could see the pain in her eyes. "I was learning to deal with it pretty well, too. Then I shot a guy. Self defense, sure, but IA was still bound to investigate." She paused. "Let’s just say there are people, at least one person in IA who would like to see me gone and leave it at that."

Fraser nodded. "I didn’t mean to upset you. Perhaps Internal Affairs won’t be too hard on you this time. Ray and I both know you weren’t involved."

Tori shrugged. "Sure. They’ll find enough circumstantial evidence, being as the body was in my apartment and the crime very well may have taken place there, they’ll find she was dead just long enough or that I have a past and they’ll just drop the case against me." Letting out a grunt, she continued. "I’m sorry, but I just want to know if things are getting hotter for me or cooler, that’s all."

Fraser could understand. She was anxious. Still, knowing the progress of the case was unlikely to make a difference. "I’ll meet you at three," he said softly, standing and crossing to the door.

"Fraser?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks," she said quietly, then added, "but none of this is to leave this room."

"Understood," Fraser replied, knowing it wouldn’t have left his lips either way. He pulled the door closed quietly and went to find a quiet corner for his own night of rest.

Finding a spot near the back exit, he made himself comfortable. He thought about what Tori Brooks had said once his eyes were closed. She wasn’t exactly out of her element. Not like him. She knew this city, but had been thrown into a new part of it. What his father had seen was loss, Fraser realized. Fraser had known it too, he supposed, or his father wouldn’t have been able to pick it out. She’d lost her sister. She blamed herself. She was beginning to make sense.

***

Brooks had no idea what time it was when she woke. She heard talking outside, but she only recognized Thatcher’s voice. She straightened herself up and walked cautiously into the hall. Thatcher was presenting some sort of daily schedule to another Mountie with great difficulty. The Mountie was a bit in his own world and only understood about half of her instructions. He tended to take things too literally and she watched as Thatcher finally turned and walked away, exasperated.

Brooks made her way slowly to the Mountie. "Constable?"

The Mountie jumped to his feet and spun in a move that surprised Brooks into taking a step back.

"H-h-hi," she said almost as a laugh holding out her hand.

"Hello, there. My name is Constable Turnbull. Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes, Turnbull. I’m Detective Brooks of the Chicago PD." She saw that he looked more comfortable now and continued. "I was just wondering what time is it?"

He looked at his watch then stood back at attention. "Ten twenty seven and thirty one seconds, Ma’am."

"Thanks. Has Fraser gone for the day then?"

"Oh yes, ma’am. That nice Detective came and picked him up at nine thirteen this morning."

"Thanks, Turnbull."

The confusion returned to his face and he leaned toward her. "Why are you here, Ma’am?"

She smiled at the opportunity to confuse him. "I’m not," she replied and hurried away.

Brooks kept herself busy all day. She sat in a diner at lunchtime and made notes about anything she could remember from her apartment. When she moved in, she noticed the floorboards in the main closet were damaged. She took notes about the window and about the name that was on the mailbox when she got there. She finally remembered that’s where the name Stover was. She knew it was familiar and she finally had an identity – the previous tenants. They had moved quickly, that’s why the apartment was immediately available when she moved in. Why had they gone so quickly? Brooks thought for several minutes and remembered that the landlord hadn’t known why either. He’d said they were simply determined and he took pity on them. She wrote all she could remember over coffee after her meal. All at once she realized it was nearly 3 o’clock.

She cursed leaving her motorcycle in her apartment’s parking lot as she dashed into the street and ran toward the station.

She was breathless when she reached the doors. Taking a moment for a deep breath, she walked cautiously inside, watching for anyone she needed to worry about. It was exactly 3 o’clock when she got to the closet. She peered inside, pulled the chain to turn on the light, and closed the door. As she looked around, she found an empty five gallon bucket. After turning it over, she sat cross legged and simply waited, making a few more notes as she did.

A few minutes later, Fraser opened the door carefully. He saw her inside waiting and closed the door quickly. "I apologize for my tardiness," he said as he passed her a file.

She took it and passed him the notebook. "Thanks, Fraser." She let out a breath and opened the folder. "That’s got information that might be helpful. I don’t know how you’ll get Huey and Dewey to accept it, but I really think there is some useful stuff in there. The most prominent being a messed up floor in the main closet, I suspect. I wonder if it’s a removable piece. Make sure they check it out."

Fraser nodded. "It appears the Stover couple lived in your apartment just before you."

She nodded and pursed her lips. "I know. I remembered their name on the mailbox about an hour ago. It would have been helpful if I’d remembered sooner."

"Ah. I only managed to get a little information for you. It was a heroin overdose and it was heroin on the kitchen floor. She has bruises indicating the injection was forced. The husband has only just been found and he is currently being held for questioning."

She looked over the file and let out another breath. After several moments, she looked up with great concern in her eyes. "I’m not going down for this one Fraser. That’s all that really matters."

"Pardon me?" He was confused.

"I thought I was still walking a thin line, Fraser. I came here to escape a past that should have had my badge."

"You don’t have to tell me any more."

She considered not telling him for a moment, then continued, deciding only to remain vague. "The guy I shot, the one who shot me… he wasn’t the guy we were after. They let me go because he was a criminal and we found him by pure luck, but he wasn’t the one who should’ve been there that day." She looked at him and stood. "I’ve just been hurt too many times." In his eyes, she saw only a distant look. "You don’t understand." She stuttered. "I… I should go."

"I do understand, Brooks. Trust me on that. Victoria…" His mind felt odd as he realized Brooks was, as his father mentioned, an angry soul. All other emotion was lost on her. She was also, like him, hard on herself. He looked into her face which anxiously awaited the end of his sentence. "I did the right thing, Tori, and so did you. Trust yourself."

The words sank in slowly. She’d heard them before, but never understood how to take them in until Fraser spoke them. She found herself staring into his eyes, looking for more answers, for more advice she had never heard, but would actually understand if they came from his lips.

Fraser noticed the way she was stealing his thoughts through his eyes and couldn’t tug them away. He squinted slightly, then relaxed and leaned just a little closer. He used two fingers of his right hand to gently lift her jaw to his. She instinctively put her right hand on his shoulder as he brought his left around and put it on her back. Before either of them knew what was happening, their lips touched gingerly. Tori knew it was very wrong. She clasped his hand with her left. He felt her warm fingers on his hand as his lips caressed hers. When he felt her try to pull the hand away, he grasped her fingers and brought their hands together to his heart.

The world was suddenly not there. It never had been there and it never would as far as they were concerned. It was just these two bodies touching. She began to accept and sank into the kiss, letting the hand on her back be her only support. Her legs felt weak and her right arm hung limp at her side. She took notice of the firm, smooth lip touching hers and he observed her soft, velvety lips. They explored the sensation only a moment longer before the doorknob began to turn. Fraser heard it first and moved back to attention. Brooks fell back over the bucket she’d been sitting on when her support was gone. Her arms flailed and she landed with her feet above her head. As she regained the use of her muscles, she reached to stand and was pulling herself up, but it was too late. Francesca was standing frozen in the doorway. She had seen them.

When Fraser walked into the squad room, he saw Ray at his desk talking on the phone. Francesca was at her desk, leaning back and sharing some sort of story. He took a moment to look at her and when she saw him, she gave him a very dirty look and turned her chair away. He then proceeded to Ray’s desk where he took a seat. Ray hung up the phone and was making notes. Fraser tried to not listen to Francesca’s conversation, but he knew it was about him.

"She’s not even that pretty," Frannie said in a distasteful tone. "I can’t believe it myself!…You know what I should do? I should date that other Mountie and make him jealous…"

Ray stood up and walked over to Francesca’s desk. She held up a finger to indicate one moment. "You don’t think it would?… I need to do something, though."

Fraser hurried over and attempted to distract Ray. "Is there another body?"

Ray began to answer as Francesca spoke. "I’ve put in two years with this guy and that… what?… all right, I won’t call her a tramp. That woman got him to kiss her in two days!"

"I’m sorry, Ray, I didn’t hear you."

"I’m standing right here, Fraze, weren’t you listening?"

Francesca hung up the phone and turned to Ray, trying her best to ignore Fraser. "Can I help you, Ray?"

"Yeah, run this name," he said handing her a piece of paper and pointing.

She typed it in quickly and waited a moment. "Whoa. This guy disappeared in 1931."

Ray looked at the picture that came up next to the other information. "Yup, that’s the guy that just washed up."

Fraser looked confused.

"We gotta go down to the morgue again, Fraser, check all this out. Two more bodies wash up, but they’re real old, like from the thirties er somethin’. Mort says it’s the same MO as the fresh two. Some wacko freak is copycatting mob murders."

Fraser followed Ray and was followed by Diefenbaker. "That is very odd indeed."

"Yeah. Buncha guys been turnin’ up like this for years, but the last one showed up twenty years ago so it took a while to figure the connection. Mob boss who killed them said the salt water was some weird torture for their betrayal and he did it before he shot ‘em and dumped ‘em."

"Do you believe the person who shot the two new victims is involved in organized crime also?"

"Dunno. Sam Walters has an airtight alibi, though. My gut tells me he’s still probably involved." He pushed open the door to the morgue where Mort was cleaning fingernails. Ray grimaced and turned away. "Whatcha got for me, Mort?"

Mort handed Ray a file and continued. Fraser saw Huey and Dewey in deep conversation in the corner. He approached them cautiously and cleared his throat. They both turned.

"Hi, Fraser," Huey said.

"Hello," Fraser replied formally.

Dewey looked at Fraser for a moment and when he didn’t speak up immediately, he looked impatient. "Can we help you?"

"Actually, I am hoping I can help you."

"How’s that?" Huey folded his arms.

"If I had information that could possibly prove helpful in the Muriel Stover case, would I be able to share it with you in confidence?"

"Huh?" Dewey looked confused.

"He’s got info." Huey said and turned back to Fraser. "I don’t know. It depends on how you got the information."

"If I choose not to tell you, then you could follow up on the information and the person would not be held accountable for violating certain rules, correct?"

"What did Brooks tell you?" Huey concluded quickly.

"Brooks told me absolutely nothing. I have acquired this notebook with information in it, though."

Huey took it quickly.

"I thought you weren’t supposed to be involved." Dewey said judgingly.

"Well, Ray is not involved and technically there was no mention of my involvement."

"Well, I know she’s not supposed to be involved," Dewey added.

"She isn’t," Fraser replied. "I am."

"Fraze!" Ray snapped. "Can we go?"

Fraser looked to Ray a moment, then back to the boys with a pleading look.

"All right, we’ll check it out, but no guarantees," Huey said at last.

Fraser nodded, satisfied, and hurried after Ray.

Ray drove in silence to the dock they had visited once before. It was off a dark road and the noise of the car on the rough terrain seemed louder this time in the quiet of the afternoon. Fraser knew it wasn’t a good time to talk so he remained silent also.

As Ray led the way into the small building next to the dock, Fraser noticed some commotion around back.

"Ray," Fraser said quietly, causing Ray to whirl around. "I saw something around the corner," he was still quiet.

Ray pulled out his gun and started around the building. He rounded the corner, with Fraser and Diefenbaker close behind, and saw nothing. He made his way quietly around the other side. "What did you see?" he finally asked Fraser.

"Some sort of movement," Fraser answered softly.

Ray went around the next corner and still there was nothing. As he rounded back to the side with the entrance, he saw the door close. He furrowed his brow and continued to the door. He then knocked, but there was nothing. "Police! Open up."

Ray heard a thud, then another, but no reply. He pounded his fist harder. "Police! Open up!"

Moments later the door opened and Sam Walters stood before him in an immaculate suit. "Hello again, Detective Vecchio. Is there a problem?" he asked in a very soothing tone.

Ray put his gun away. "I just came to ask you a few more questions." He tried to look past the man, but the man’s almost practiced stance left Ray seeing very little.

Sam stepped outside and pulled the door closed. "Ah, well, I was just on my way to a business meeting. Could we make an appointment for a later time?"

Ray heard another thud. "What was that?"

"Oh, nothing," Walters was very calm. "One of my associates is doing some repair work for me." He started toward his car.

"Mind if I check it out?"

"Not at all," Sam said, turning back to Ray and quickly adding, "providing you have a warrant."

"You’re going to require a warrant for me to see some guy fixing something?"

"Well, it is my legal right."

Ray scoffed. "Yeah, legal right. Always know what’s legal. I guess you never thought if you weren’t doing anything illegal you’d have nothing to hide. What have you got going in there?"

"I told you…"

Ray crowded the man’s space, but Sam stood strong. "Maybe you got some thugs roughing up a guy in there."

"Gentlemen, please. Thugs? I gave you all the necessary information yesterday proving that I am a simple -- legal boat-for-hire company."

"You’re not fooling anyone. I know you smuggle outta here. I just wonder how often you dump bodies off the boat on your way across."

"I assure you I have no idea what you’re talking about, Detective," Walters hissed. "Perhaps if you knew how to do your job, you wouldn’t be here bothering a legal businessman."

Ray seemed irritated at the remark. "Are you going to make this personal? If you are, I’m ready to go."

"Are you threatening me, Detective? Do I need to call a lawyer to prevent this harassment?"

"Oh yeah, you can call a lawyer." Ray started calmly, then threw off his jacket. "Right after I kick in your head!"

"Go ahead, Detective, should make for a fine case."

"Maybe I don’t care, huh?" he said, feeling the sudden need to prove himself, although the person he wanted to prove it to wasn’t there. "Maybe I ‘lose’ you. Catch my drift? I’m a cop. Nobody’s going to touch me."

When Sam saw that Ray almost seemed to have put thought behind his threat, he backed toward the car, finally showing some fear. "All right. How do I get this to go away."

Ray kept his stance. "Let us inside."

"I refuse to do that without a warrant."

"Fine," Ray said as he put up his fists.

"All right, all right." Sam hurried back to the building and opened the door. Fraser and Ray looked around, but nothing was out of place.

"I thought you said there was someone working in here," Ray said after he’d checked everything out.

"Guess he’s finished. Perhaps he left." Walters was back to his confident air.

Ray hurried back outside, gun drawn, and looked around, but there was no sign of anyone or anything he could follow. He returned his gun to its holster.

Sam looked at his watch. "I am going to be late if I don’t leave right away. Are we finished here?" Ray nodded, frustrated, but unable to prove anything.

"Good day, gentlemen." Sam walked past them and climbed into his car, quickly driving away.

Ray looked at the building for another moment.

Fraser watched for a moment before speaking. "You know, Ray, it is interesting that we heard another mysterious sound as we spoke with Mr. Walters. If he was concealing something illegal, he would have made them stop when we arrived."

Ray nodded, then headed back to the building. He examined it again.

The floors were hard wood and Ray noticed a creaking. He looked down and saw the board was not properly in place. He got down and, using his pocketknife, he pried the board up. Underneath was a dirty metal box. He opened it, but it was empty. He returned everything into place and left with a smile.

Fraser was curious. "Did you find anything useful?"

"I think so, Fraze, but I’ll come back later to get it as soon as I figure out what it is."

Fraser cocked his head, then opened the door for Diefenbaker. Dief whimpered and jumped in the car.

"Want me to drop you at the Consulate?"

"Yes, I would. Thank you, kindly," Fraser replied.

***

Tori Brooks had spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in Benton’s office. She couldn’t resist opening a notebook or two to see what was inside. Mostly they were full of agendas and personal notes. She didn’t find anything of interest.

Sitting behind the desk, she leaned back and felt her stomach flip. He’d kissed her. Out of the blue and unexpectedly, he’d kissed her. As Tori closed her eyes, she was able to see his face as he’d touched her jaw. His blue eyes bore through her and her heart had skipped a beat. He was handsome, admittedly. She’d noticed that right from the first moment. Getting to know him she’d seen a slight vulnerability when he spoke of home and something had bothered him at the restaurant. She’d seen a very intelligent man, a kind, polite, and caring man. She’d caught a glimpse of a little boy. She didn’t know when, now, but she could still see that look in his eye.

She heard a sound and straightened in the seat. Was it him? After a moment, Tori relaxed and glanced at the desk. She felt like a giddy school girl, waiting anxiously to see his face. He made sense in her mind. He was good. He was kind and polite. He was in need of affection. She frowned. There was a much bigger problem. She was a rookie when it came to love. She barely understood the subject. The woman had felt a void her entire life when it came to such things as love and happiness. Those moods were something she should have felt at times in her perfectly satisfactory life, but she didn’t understand them. It was something she never admitted and it hurt her sometimes not to know what it truly meant.

Looking back, she knew she felt the sort of love that came with attachment. She loved her mother. She loved her sister and her friends. She’d just never felt anything more. Leaning back again and closing her eyes, she placed her fingers over the lids. When the image of Benton Fraser pierced into her brain, she wanted to cry. She couldn’t give him what he needed when it came to emotions and she didn’t dare take away from the perfection of his heart. He was too good for her.

‘Why, then, did I kissed him?’ she asked herself. It had been purely selfish and she knew it, though she had trouble admitting it to herself. She wanted to take the good things from him. She wanted to prove to herself that she could be loved by someone so special.

***

Ray spent the drive in deep thought and Fraser could see that it wouldn’t be a good idea to interrupt the thoughts so he watched quietly through the window as the streets of Chicago passed. He was a bit surprised to see that Ray didn’t come out of it even as he stopped in front of the Consulate

"Thank you, kindly," Fraser said as he let Dief out.

Ray grunted and continued to stare ahead, then took off rather quickly when Fraser closed the door.

Once alone in the car, he let out a low groan. No matter what he did, he couldn’t get that exasperating woman off his mind. She irritated him in a way that excited him. He waited for battle as though it made him feel alive. Ray beat a hand against the steering wheel and flipped on the car stereo. The beat didn’t drive her from his thoughts and as he glanced out into the streets, he thought of something that might. The case. Instead of heading home, he drove up and down the streets of Chicago trying to concentrate on the murders, the information, anything other than Tori Brooks.

***

Fraser stepped inside the Consulate and glanced down the hall. He wasn’t ready to face her. For the first time he wasn’t sure how he felt. He always had confidence in himself and his decisions, but regret had kicked in and he didn’t know if he’d kissed Victoria because of a silly need to rectify the past or because this woman was like him, could understand him, and fit with him. Knocking on Thatcher’s door, her found it empty as he’d suspected since the lights were out. He moved inside and glanced around.

Purely for decorative purposed, Sven had put a burgundy couch in the far corner of her office. No one ever used it, not even her, to his knowledge. He was confident, in fact, that no one had because there were not telltale signs of wearing, wrinkling, or impressions left in the supple leather.

Benton took the initiative and slid carefully into the center of the sofa. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. There was no question that Tori Brooks could understand him, but he hadn’t given her the chance. He felt he understood her, but there was not bonding. He felt a friendship with her, but when he thought about it, he knew the love was purely platonic. Laying there in the dark, he had to find his true feelings and his mood alone, away from her, from Ray, and from his father.

***

Fraser knew he had to talk to Brooks now, and he found her in his office going through the file he had given her earlier. She didn’t look up as he entered the room.

"Hello, Tori," he said softly to no reply. "Tori?" Still nothing. "Tori. Tori. Tori." He repeated until she looked up.

"What, Fraser?" she said with agitation.

"I think we should talk about what happened today."

She returned her gaze to the papers before her. "Nothing happened."

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing happened," she repeated, still not giving him much acknowledgement.

"Well, I was referring to the time we spent in the closet."

"Huh?"

"The closet. When we were in the closet…"

"I’m sorry, Fraser. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Fraser looked confused. "We met in the closet today to exchange information and…"

She looked up and cocked her head. "Ah, yes. Thanks for the information, Constable."

Fraser paused a moment. "But then there was a moment where…"

"I won’t mention the notebook, Constable, because we don’t want to get anyone in trouble."

Fraser felt a hint of rage. He wanted to tell her it wasn’t about the silly notebook and she knew exactly what it was about, but it wasn’t in his nature to force that upon her. She had to volunteer. He swallowed the impulse and cleared his throat. "I don’t want to talk about the notebook."

"I left right after that, Constable."

Fraser paused again and spoke carefully as if he wasn’t really sure what had happened anymore either. It was a kiss, no question, but had the situation been the way he remembered it? "We shared a kiss while…"

Brooks stood quickly and leaned dauntlessly close to him. "Nothing happened. Do you understand me, Constable? After you handed me the file, I hurried from the closet. Nothing else happened."

Fraser wanted to challenge her, to force her to admit it for his own piece of mind, but instead caught himself relaxing and saying, simply, "Understood."

Brooks sat down and Fraser pulled up a chair. She allowed him to watch her making notes and examining the papers for several minutes.

Fraser sorted things in his mind and finally felt the need to speak. "I just thought you should know; that wasn’t me." He rolled his eyes back and tipped his head back and forth. "I mean, it was me, but it was the me who was in love with a woman named Victoria." Brooks looked up, her brows furrowed. "I thought I had closure, I thought it would never enter my thoughts again, but I found that simply by meeting someone with the same name, it could give me a closure I hadn’t been able to have before."

The look on her face softened, but she said nothing for a moment. "She must’ve hurt you pretty bad," she said finally.

Fraser just looked at her. "I need to know that I haven’t hurt you."

Brooks set down her pen. "No, Benton. I wouldn’t worry about that, but I also wouldn’t keep sitting there, waiting for me to tell you why I kissed you back."

Fraser sat stoic.

"If it makes you feel better, I had selfish reasons for kissing you, too." She picked up her pen and went back to work.

Fraser waited a moment, then stood. As he walked toward the door, there was a knock. He opened it and Ray stepped inside. Brooks looked up and dropped her pen. "Ray?"

"Hey, Brooks," he said quickly. "Fraser, I came back because I had a thought."

"Oh?" Tori interrupted.

"About this other case," Ray said to her, then looked back on Fraser. "I’m hoping to prove a thing or two."

Fraser nodded. "You shouldn’t be here with her around," Benton warned. "Let me get my hat." He reached for it and Ray’s phone rang.

Ray took the phone from his pocket and talked through the first couple of rings. "See, I found a box, a weird metal box. I’m thinking the syringe he uses to inject the saltwater is supposed to be in there. It’s about the right size and I can’t figure out why else it’d be hidden down there. I just gotta figure out how to get a warrant and prove it’s his." He answered the phone on the fourth ring. "Vecchio."

Fraser put on his hat as Tori came around the desk. "What’s going on with the case you’re working on?"

Fraser bit his lip. "I don’t think I should say."

"Of course I’m not with her. I was told I couldn’t…" Ray said violently into the phone, causing Brooks’ and Fraser’s attention to be pulled into his conversation. "But that’s circumstantial." Fraser recognized the yell as coming from Welsh, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. "All right," Ray said in a surrendering tone. "All right, I will." He hung up. "You’re under arrest."

Brooks looked around as if she thought someone was standing behind her. "Who, me?"

"Sorry. They found the needle that was used to shoot up the victim and a bunch of stuff in your apartment."

"That’s circumstantial," she said defensively. As soon as she realized where she’d heard that statement in the past minute, she stopped. "Oh."

"I guess IA has some real beef with you because they told Welsh to bust you or they’d investigate him, too."

"Ah, but you can’t arrest her," Fraser cut in.

They both looked confused and Fraser continued. "In all actuality, the Consulate is on Canadian soil. Only I can arrest her and since I agree that it’s circumstantial, I can give her asylum until the proper forms are…"

"Good one, Fraser. I keep forgetting this is Canada." Ray interrupted and pulled out his phone. "I’ll call and tell Welsh."

"It’s ok," Brooks said, putting out her hands to give Ray a chance to cuff her.

"You’ll stay here until we push our way in and find the real killers, Brooks," Ray insisted.

Pushing past them, she headed out of the room. Ray followed and so did Fraser.

"Where are you going, Tori?" Ray asked as she headed to the door.

"I cannot protect you if you leave," Fraser added.

She walked outside straight onto the sidewalk. "It’s just delaying the inevitable," she said at last. "C’mon, Ray. Better cuff me and read me my rights so it’s all legal." She turned her back and put her hands behind her, palms up. Ray cuffed her reluctantly and recited the Miranda Rights.

Brooks was tightlipped in the back seat while Fraser rode with Ray in the front.

"Boy, you’ve got the IA pissed at you, Brooks. What’d you do?" Ray’s curiosity got the better of him.

"Um, well, they weren’t too happy when I shot that guy since it was three months after closing the investigation on another little indiscretion."

"Did you kill someone else?"

"Nope. Tampered with evidence."

"You tampered with evidence and got away with it?" Ray was shocked.

"Hmm, got away with it or got lucky. I’m not sure what you’d call it."

"Huh?" Ray was even more confused.

She was quiet for a moment. "Dammit."

"What?" Ray asked.

"Fraser, do you remember that death I mentioned to you?" Brooks began.

Fraser replied with a quick, "Yes," ignoring the brief glare he got from Ray.

"Understandably, I was curious so I went to investigate. The file was closed years ago. I had no way of knowing they would pick up the guy and find out that I’d been through the evidence. It’s still tampering even though I didn’t screw with anything."

"Ah," Benton interjected. "Didn’t they understand the situation?"

"Why do you think I got off? The problem was there was this investigator, Davis Squigg. He didn’t like that I went in there in the first place and he didn’t like that I shot some guy who wasn’t supposed to be there. Squigg’s been watching me carefully ever since and it made the other cops I worked with very nervous. I finally convinced Captain Walsh to give me a transfer and a glowing recommendation to… well, anywhere. I guess Welsh made friends when he took over for Walsh at the 27th so I ended up here. Squigg must’ve caught wind of the whole thing and he’s probably the one behind this arrest, which means if I’m lucky enough to not lose my badge forever, I’ll probably have to leave again. Dammit."

"I didn’t realize that a case was considered closed on a murder investigation until a suspect has been convicted," Fraser said, turning to Brooks.

Tori shrugged. "Of course they’re not, but it had been fifteen years. I thought that guy was long gone."

Ray watched Fraser face the front again, then glanced in the rearview mirror at Brooks. He could see the anger in her eyes and knew from Fraser’s demeanor that she’d been in some real trouble. When she noticed him looking, she bowed her head. Ray glanced over at Fraser again. "I don’t know what I can do, but I promise I’ll clear you. That’s one thing I can do."

Brooks looked up again and saw Ray watching her. "How, Ray? You gonna put on your Prince Valiant costume and save me from the dragon? This is my fight. Stay out of it."

Fraser turned and looked at her. "I believe you were the one who advised Ray ought to remember who his friends are."

She turned away with a scoff.

Diefenbaker whimpered and laid across her legs. Brooks looked up and somehow the look Fraser gave her made her feel guilty. "Look, I just don’t want you guys to get involved. Squigg knows people. I’m afraid that if you’re nosing around the investigation, you’ll lose your badges too."

"Actually, I don’t wear a badge," Fraser turned forward as he spoke.

"You know what I mean. I’m not letting you go down with me."

"Nobody’s goin’ down," Ray added quickly. "Nobody."

***

Ray led Brooks by the arm into the station. They were immediately greeted by Welsh and Dewey.

Welsh waved Dewey away and turned his full attention to them. "The guy from IA is in interview one. There are a couple people in my office waiting to talk to you, Vecchio."

Fraser stepped forward. "I’ll take her down the hall."

"Thank you, Constable," Welsh said. "This way, Vecchio."

Ray led the way into the office where two men stood waiting. Welsh stepped inside and closed the door.

"Welsh was given specific instructions which he claims he delivered to you. Can you tell me what those instructions were, Detective?"

Ray scoffed. "They serious?" he asked Welsh.

"As a heart attack," Welsh replied.

Ray turned to them. "I know I’m not supposed to get involved in that case, but…"

"You were supposed to stay away from her," the speaker replied.

"I had important information to deliver to Constable Fraser. I didn’t know she’d be there," Ray lied, trying to sound official.

"We will take your badge if we deem it necessary, Detective."

"All right, all right. Look, I’m staying out of the case. I’m working on another, c’mon, gimme a break."

"This is your official warning, Detective. I’m dying to take your shield so don’t give me a reason." With that, the two gentlemen left the room.

As they walked out, Huey and Dewey entered. Ray immediately turned to them. "I heard the victim was married. Didn’t you bring in the husband? I mean, standard procedure, boys."

"He had an airtight alibi," Dewey replied.

"We checked it out thoroughly, Ray. He’s clean," Huey added.

"She’s clean too." He turned back to Welsh. "She was with me the whole time. Why is she under arrest and the husband isn’t."

"Because Assistant States Attorney Kowalski made us cut him loose." Welsh took a file from Huey.

"Stella," Ray said under his breath and hurried from the office. "Is she still here?"

"Upstairs," Welsh replied quickly.

Ray was running up the stairs when he passed Stella. He turned quickly and caught up to her.

"Stella."

"Ray," she said coldly.

"You let some guy go on a case."

"Specifics, Ray." She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stepped out of the way of the foot traffic.

Ray thought hard. "Uh, Stover. Thought the guy killed his wife, but he says he has an alibi."

"Huey and Dewey checked it out. He was in a meeting with several gentlemen for his business. They could even describe the tie he wore. He was there. I can’t let you hang onto a guy without any kind of evidence."

"He was conducting business? I heard his wife had been missing for 6 days. Didn’t it seem odd that he was in a meeting?"

Stella rolled her eyes. "Yes, but the men in the meeting described his demeanor as distracted."

"Well, they’ve got someone else in there and she’s got no one getting her off."

"Look, Ray, I don’t really care. Internal Affairs told me they’ve got it under control. They’re investigating a cop now." She began to walk away and Ray grabbed her. She turned with anger raging in her eyes and pulled away. "Back off, Ray."

"Stella, I’m sorry." He followed her. "The cop they got is my partner."

Stella stopped and turned back to Ray. "Your partner did it?"

"No, see, that’s my point. They got a whole bunch of circumstantial evidence and they’re throwing the fact that she’s got no motive and she has an alibi out the window."

"How good’s the alibi?"

"She was staking out another place with me and Fraser all night."

Stella stood stoic for a moment. "Forensics report places the TOD as 48 hours previous."

"She didn’t do it, Stella," Ray said more firmly.

Stella let out a long breath. "All right. I’ll see what I can find. If the only thing I find points to her, I don’t want to hear anything from you about it. Got it?"

Ray nodded. "I’m going to go see how the interview is going," Ray added before she left. "Maybe something will turn up there."

Stella nodded. Glancing at her watch, she knew she had enough time to join him briefly.

***

Constable Fraser opened the door and stood aside. A man with thinning dark hair stood with arms crossed near the far wall and when he heard the footsteps behind him, he turned. "Detective Brooks," he said in a smarmy tone. "It’s so good to see you again."

"Squigg," she hissed. "Do I get to keep the cuffs?"

"Why not think of them as bracelets?" Squigg returned, then turned to Fraser. "You have the keys?" Benton shook his head and Squigg held out his hands. "Guess you get to keep them."

Brooks furrowed her brow. "Well, then, what now?"

Squigg dropped his arms to his side and moved to the table, pulling out a chair. "You can go," he said to Fraser.

"I don’t think so," Tori snapped. "He’s not leaving until these cuffs are gone."

Squigg grabbed her arm and pushed her into the chair. "You can go, sir," he stated again to Fraser.

Fraser could see Tori pleading with him not to leave. "Perhaps I can find an officer with keys," he offered, leaning out into the hall and waving when he caught Huey’s attention."

"I’m not sure we need to do that," Squigg said. "I’m the one in charge of this investigation and it is a murder charge."

"How about a compromise," Brooks offered. "You let them move my arms in front of me, but you can still have your restraints." When he didn’t react she continued. "It’s pretty uncomfortable to sit like this."

Squigg nodded with a frown. He watched as Huey entered and changed her position. As soon as he had finished, Davis waved the two other men from the room. "This is a matter for Internal Affairs. I’d appreciate privacy," he added as they walked out.

Moving across the room, Davis closed the door, then sat across from her at the table. They stared at each other for a full minute before Brooks spoke. "What are you using as a motive, Squigg?"

The man at the table straightened. "Doesn’t matter."

"You’re going to need a lot more than the heroin on the kitchen floor," Brooks challenged. "No one’s going to convict on a little circumstantial evidence."

Squigg chuckled. "A little? Would you like to go over it? With as much as we have, any jury would be convinced."

Brooks didn’t look deterred. She straightened firmly and raised her eyebrows. "Pretty confident, aren’t you?"

Squigg picked up a box and dropped it dramatically on the table. Reaching in to remove the carefully preserved piece one at a time, he laid them out before her. "How about this heroin collected from the kitchen floor. It’s laced with meth. It matches the sample exactly with this sample found in your dresser. Do you think you might have a little difficulty explaining how the same heroin made it’s way all over these panties?"

Brooks squirmed at the personal effects now making an appearance.

"We’ve got your lovely blue jacket taken from your closet. I don’t suppose you have an explanation for how this needle got inside the pocket and even dripped into the lining. Can you explain that away so simply?"

Brook swallowed hard.

"Would you like to see any more?" he asked.

Brooks looked down at her hands and swallowed. Squigg carefully picked up one item at a time and dropped them into the box.

In interview room two, Fraser followed Diefenbaker inside. He tried not to overhear the conversation as he collected the animal, but as he turned to exit, he was greeted by Ray and Stella.

"Anything happen yet?" Ray asked.

Fraser shook his head. "I was only retrieving Diefenbaker," he replied.

Ray nodded and looked through the window. Stella moved beside him and watched.

"You’re crazy if you think you’re going to get away with this," Brooks said, a renewal of attitude causing her to straighten her back and move her hands to the table.

Squigg stood suddenly. "NO! You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk away from this one. You will be held accountable."

"What about my witnesses? How are you planning to discount a Detective and a Mountie?"

"I’d say the Detective has an interest in this, don’t you think? Partners stick together. You’re new to this precinct and you needed a connection, didn’t you?" Squigg sat back down and drew out a notepad. "According to this, he’s not much of an alibi since there seem to be a lot of questions surrounding his record. He’s been investigated by IA twice in the last year, it appears. Once in connection with a murder, once in connection with a drug charge."

Flipping the page, he continued. "And this little piece of information about his identity might prove useful."

Brooks furrowed her brow in confusion while, in the other room, Ray gasped. Stella glanced at him wide-eyed.

Throwing off her confusion, Brooks continued. "And the Mountie? No one questions those men in the Canadian red," she replied. "It’s the Dudley Do-Right syndrome."

Squigg scoffed. "Oh, yes. The Mountie. It appears the two of you have something going on the side, doesn’t it?"

Fraser tugged on his collar and Ray glanced at him.

"When we pushed hard enough, we didn’t have any trouble getting the witness to admit she saw you two kissing here at the station," he stated.

Ray turned to Fraser. "What!?" He turned, stunned, back to the observation mirror when he heard Francesca’s name.

"She was reluctant at first, but apparently she enjoys her job. It was a good thing she happened to remember the day and time, don’t you think? You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near the station at that point, were you?"

"There’s nothing going on," she insisted. "None of that is true and I’ve got ways to disprove her. Don’t worry about that."

"All right, then. Let’s discuss the notebook. Two officers can testify that it was in his possession."

"Sure they can, but no one said he couldn’t be involved."

"But we can prove that you couldn’t," Squigg countered. "Would you like to explain how the information got into his hands? I’m not sure his superior would look favourably on that."

Brooks looked at the door, secretly praying for reprieve, but knowing it wouldn’t come. She’d dug herself and everyone around her into her hole. Defeated, she turned her game to offense. "Y’know, it’s not my fault I busted your partner. Someone was going to. He couldn’t hide behind that badge forever."

Welsh passed the open door to interview room two and stopped. Stepping inside, he fiercely demanded, "What are you all doing in here?" Giving them only a moment to answer and being met with silence, he continued. "He wants privacy. Everyone out." When they shuffled slowly, he added a firm, "Now!"

Stella left first, disappearing down the hall. Welsh waited at the door while Ray and Fraser paused a moment when they noticed Squigg raise a hand threateningly. Brooks put her hands in front of her face and Squigg lowered his hand.

Ray looked at Fraser. "That’s the first time I’ve seen her afraid of getting hit," Ray noted.

Fraser nodded, then continued on his way into the hall. He stopped and waited until Ray stood beside him. The two watched as Welsh closed the door. In the instant the door clicked, they all heard a crash. Everyone froze and Welsh went for the doorknob to the first room. Meanwhile, a series of noises came from interview one before there was another crash. Standing in the doorway, Ray saw Squigg holding a chair above his head. Welsh stood just inside the door and Fraser stood behind Ray. Moving quickly to see past Welsh, Fraser leaned to find Brooks. He spotted her crouched in the corner, the chair Squigg held hovering over her. Tori’s hands were balled into fists and her jaw was locked defiantly.

Dief ran past the group and jumped at Squigg, knocking him down. Ray ran over, ready with his cuffs. Fraser hurried to Brooks and asked her if she was all right, but he could already see red marks across her face and she was now holding her abdomen in pain.

Squigg freed himself from Ray’s grasp. "She attacked me. I was defending myself."

Ray grabbed Squigg and picked him up. Welsh followed as Ray pushed Squigg out of the room.

Fraser helped Brooks to her feet. She went to the two-way mirror and looked at the red marks on her face. They were already darkening to a striking purple contrast against her pale skin.

"Perhaps I should take you to Welsh’s office so we can get this all straightened out," Fraser said as he took her arm.

"Bastard," Brooks breathed.

Stella stopped on the stair when she saw Squigg being pushed, cuffed, down the hall toward the bull pen. She descended the stairs quickly and followed them through the squad room.

As Fraser neared the office, he saw that was where Ray had taken Squigg. As he opened the door, he was preparing for Brooks to make an attack. Ray had apparently also expected an attack as he stood closer to Squigg, but Brooks just walked in and moved to the other side of the room.

"You ok?" Welsh asked her.

She nodded as Squigg cut in. "You should be asking how I am. She attacked me!"

"I’m not buying that one," Welsh said in defense. "My boys didn’t know you wanted to be alone. They saw the whole thing." He knew no one had actually seen it, but bluffed it anyway.

Squigg backed off. "Someone’s gotta keep her in line. She ratted out a cop. Now she’s hiding behind her badge."

"I’m not the one hiding, Squigg!" Brooks tensed so Fraser took a firm stance between her and Squigg.

Welsh sat down behind his desk. "I’m going to ask you to let this one go." He picked up the phone and started dialing. "I think you’re gonna let my cop go until you have some solid evidence unless you want everyone to know what we saw today."

Squigg looked angry, but knew he had little choice except taking the advice. As he walked out, he pointed a threatening finger at Brooks. "I’m coming back for you, Brooks. You are mine."

"I’m sorry, was that supposed to scare me?" she replied simply. "Was it supposed to be a threat?" She added a growl in an attempt to irritate him.

Fraser cocked his head and cracked his neck as Ray plopped on the sofa.

Tori folded her arms and stared at Welsh. "Thanks," she said, as though admitting something painful.

Once she was gone, Welsh turned back to Brooks. "I can’t let you work the case. Hell, I still can’t let you work. I don’t want to see you around the station and I definitely don’t want to hear about you being at the crime scene in half an hour when Jack and Dewey are checking out a few more things."

She looked a bit confused, but Ray was quick to catch on. He guided her from the room, Fraser and Dief in tow, before talking. "That means we can go check it out."

Welsh hollered from his desk as they walked away. "Huey! Dewey! Get in here!"

***

Ray noticed Tori’s face was beginning to turn purple and swollen. He also couldn’t help noticing a slight limp. Diefenbaker was walking close beside her, protectively, as she made her way out of the station. Once out in the fresh air, Ray stepped up beside Brooks and checked her expression. Her face was in a scowl of pain and anger.

"Y’know," Ray finally said, his tone quiet, "Maybe we should get you to a hospital – just to check for broken bones and…"

"Nothing’s broken," she injected quickly and firmly.

Several things ran through Ray’s mind at that moment. He’d absorbed far more information than he wanted to process. He decided to postpone the inevitable curiosities and stick to the subject at hand. "He got you pretty good," Ray said at last.

She looked up at him and growled.

He wanted to know about it. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know about her past and the kiss and all the other information Squigg had. Instead he asked an open ended question so she could answer any one of his queries. "What the hell happened?"

They stood before his car now; she leaned against it. "I need to go back to the Consulate and pick up a couple things before we head back to the apartment."

Fraser produced a small container from the pouch on his Sam Browne. He stuck his finger in it and went for Tori’s face. She pulled back at first. "What is that?"

"It’s a concoction I made from dried… well, that’s not important. It will reduce the swelling and take away the sting."

She held still as he applied it quickly to her face.

"So, are you going to just change the subject?" Ray was determined for an answer now.

Fraser finished up and put the container back in his pouch. He stepped away to open the car door for Dief.

"I’m just asking ‘cause that’s the scaredest I’ve seen ya. I mean, even though I’ve only known you a few days."

Brooks threw out her arm and hit Ray in the stomach. She was going for another punch when Fraser stopped her. "I’m not sure this is a very productive conversation. Shall we go to the Consulate?"

"Yeah, fine, whatever," Ray replied.

Not a word was spoken until they were inside the Consulate. Brooks started ruffling papers on the desk in Fraser’s office while the two of them watched. Finally Ray came around the desk and started looking around. "What is it you’re lookin’ for?"

She ignored him and kept shuffling.

"I’m only asking because I want to help."

"Wanna help? Wanna help?" She straightened and stared him down. "Get outta my face. I’ve had just about enough of your hanging around."

"Hey, lemme remind you, we’re partners!" Ray began to tense. "All I’m trying to do is help you out."

"I don’t need your help, all right?" She stood threateningly close and jabbed his shoulder with her finger.

Fraser started around the desk. "I don’t think this bickering is going to…"

"Did you just poke me?!" Ray poked her back and she shoved him. All at once, he pushed her back and she tackled him to the ground. Fraser grabbed her around the waist and pulled her off Ray.

"Psycho!" Ray yelled as he stood, only to be kicked halfway up by her flailing legs. At that, Fraser turned and set her down behind him.

She tried to reach around him, but stopped short and grabbed her side. "Damn," she let out softly.

Ray stepped back and checked his jaw, moving it back and forth.

"Ray, may I have a moment alone with Detective Brooks?"

Ray sneered at her, then reluctantly made his way from the room. Fraser closed the door behind him.

"I grow increasingly concerned with your behaviour," he started. "I believe we all have the same goal – to solve this case and clear you of any criminal charges."

She crossed her arms.

"I’m not sure I completely understand the history behind your conversation with the man from Internal Affairs, but it appears you arrested his partner for involvement in criminal activity. Is that close?"

"No."

"I distinctively recall you saying that…"

"I tried to arrest him, but he resisted arrest. I shot him. I didn’t kill him or anything, but I did some serious damage. Squigg still believes the guy was innocent, but I know he was guilty."

"And what did the court determine."

"Nothing. He killed himself while waiting for trial. Everyone knows he was guilty though."

"But you were the one who stood up to him."

"Yes, so Squigg blames me. He was really close with his partner. He thinks he’s getting vengeance by getting me off the force. I don’t know what his superiors think, but they’re letting him get away with everything."

"Including violence."

She looked away. "Well, yeah. I, uh, I beat him up once, simple fight, no big thing, but now he prefers props because he knows I’m no match. God, what a mess."

Fraser watched her for a moment. She was staring at nothing in particular, a look of deep thought on her face. In some remote place, he wanted to put an arm around her. ‘Because,’ he thought, ‘that’s what women like.’ He looked at her again. She was tense and still had that air of defiance. ‘Isn’t it?’ He admitted to himself that she confused him a little, as few people do, and shifted on his feet.

"How much did you hear?" she said after several seconds.

"Pardon?" Fraser asked, not following.

"Welsh said all of you saw what happened. Exactly how much did you hear?"

"I’m afraid the Leftenant exaggerated the extent…"

"But you were in the other room, right? You… you were listening."

Benton nodded. "I didn’t hear the entire conversation, but I was witness to much of it."

Brooks swallowed. "Francesca saw us."

Benton nodded. "We saw her, also."

"I know, but I never thought she’d tell anyone." Brooks paused. "I never thought she’d be forced to tell anyone. I’m sorry."

Fraser stepped closer and put a hand on her shoulder. "It isn’t your fault."

Brooks let out a breath and leaned against the desk. "It is." She looked up into his eyes and shook her head. "I shouldn’t have asked for a transfer, I should have quit the force."

"It wasn’t your fault," he repeated with a frown. "According to what you’ve told me, I see no reason for you to quit being an officer of the law over any of it."

"All Welsh did was delay the inevitable. Squigg will be back and next time he’ll come with something ten times more damaging to me and everyone in that precinct." She moved to her feet again and swallowed. There was something in the tender look Fraser gave her that made her melt. "I can’t let anything happen to you or Ray. That’s why I’ll have to leave."

"No. No you don’t. We’ll fix this. If what you say is true, we’ll find justice."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. When Fraser called for justice, she could believe it. She gave him a small smile and looked into his eyes. "Thank you," she said, stretching her neck to kiss his cheek. She felt his cheek move into a smile against her lips and felt her heart race. Shutting out the voice in her head, she put a hand on the back of his neck and slid her lips to his.

Fraser wanted to stop it. He knew he wanted nothing more. The chances of hurting her or himself increased with every moment he didn’t push her away. Finally finding the control over his hands, he slid them to her waist, but instead of pushing her away, he put them around her in a gentle embrace. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her back. Her lips were tender fingers sent a tingle along his spine as she ran them into his hair.

Placing her other hand on his shoulder, she continued to press her body against his. Her head felt light and she let out a soft hum.

Ray stood on the other side of the door, leaning against the wall. Frowning, he checked his filthy fingernails. His mind imagined what they were doing alone in the room and he felt an anger rising in him. He told himself that he was angry they hadn’t told him about their kiss. He told himself he didn’t care, but he at least wanted to know what was going on between them. Trying to convince himself that they were the perfect pair, he caught himself with a white knuckle fist. Relaxing it, he shifted to stand straight on his feet and let out a deep breath. He consciously refused to admit anything more, telling himself that his own feelings were not important, even if they were true. In the end, he decided the easiest thing for him would be to stay as far from her as possible, separating work thoughts and personal thoughts by a mental brick wall.

Fraser took a step back, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He put a hand over his face and looked regretful. "I’m sorry," he said in a softly defeated tone.

Tori stared at him a moment, then turned, wiping at her eye as soon as she faced away from him, though he could still see what she was doing. His heart sank and he tugged at his ear. "I’m really very sorry," he reiterated. "I don’t know why I let it happen again."

"Let it?" she said so softly he almost couldn’t hear her. "I can’t believe any part of me wanted it," she admitted, still not looking at him.

Fraser wanted to say her name, but he struggled. He first wanted to call her Victoria, but feared it would only add to the confusion they both obviously felt. Detective Brooks sounded far too formal now. He looked at her pleadingly and held a hand toward her, opting not to use her name at all. "It wasn’t your fault."

She made eye contact with him again. "Stop saying that!" she insisted, then took a deep breath. "I’ll be good. I promise," she stated in an oddly child-like tone. "No more going after Ray, all right? Shall we go on to the apartment?"

Fraser nodded. "We didn’t find what you were looking for."

"Nothing. I wasn’t looking for anything." She stood and a nefarious grin turned up one corner of her mouth. "It’s kinda fun to piss off Ray, isn’t it?"

Fraser cleared his throat and opened the door for her. Ray stood expectantly with folded arms.

"C’mon, Ray. Let’s go to my apartment and see what we can turn up."

"Actually, I was thinking maybe Fraser and I should go handle it. I mean, what if Squigg shows up? We don’t need that kind of mess."

"But I’m the one who knows…"

"I believe Ray is correct," Fraser said, admittedly feeling relief at the excuse. "You stay here and we will handle it."

"But…"

"C’mon, you can trust Fraze. Nothing gets past that tongue," Ray said with a wink. Fraser glanced at Ray uncomfortably. "Right, Fraze?" Ray asked, tapping Fraser on the upper arm.

"What?" Tori asked, realizing that Ray may have overheard her confrontation with Squigg as well. "What made you say that?" she asked.

Ray shrugged. He wasn’t about to let her know what he knew, now. "Nothing. You remember the shoe, right? The guy knows his way around his taste buds," Ray replied.

Brooks sighed relief. "Oh, I see." She paused. "I really don’t need to run into Squigg again today," she admitted. "Just do me a favour and hurry back, ok?"

‘Can’t handle a moment without your Mountie?’ Ray asked himself, but only smiled. "You got it," he said.

Fraser set his hat on his head as he turned to follow Ray from the Consulate. Dief whimpered and Fraser turned around. "No one’s invited you," Fraser told the animal who promptly laid down across Tori’s feet. "Fine," Fraser said simply and continued out.

***

Fraser and Ray waited in the car until they saw Huey and Dewey pull up.

"Where’s Brooks?" Huey asked as he got out of the car.

"She had some things to do. We’re handling it."

Huey shrugged and followed Dewey into the building.

As they entered the apartment, Huey and Dewey looked around.

"What are you guys looking for, anyway?" Ray asked.

"Dunno. Welsh told us to come check the place out." The two walked past Fraser and Ray and went about looking around the place.

Ray chuckled and leaned against the wall. "So, Fraze. What’d the two of you talk about?"

"When?" Fraser asked.

"What do you mean when? At the Consulate. What did you tell her? What did you do to her?"

"It doesn’t matter," Fraser replied.

"Oh?" Ray pressed. "So a kiss means nothing to you."

Fraser cleared his throat. "Ray, there was no discussion of the kiss mentioned by Squigg."

"None? None at all? What about other kisses. The two of your getting along pretty well?" he pried.

Fraser ran his thumbnail along his brow and looked stern. "I’m sorry, Ray, but it really is none of your business what has gone on between Detective Brooks and myself."

Ray threw a hand in dismissal. "All right."

"I don’t think you should concern yourself," Fraser continued.

"Fine," Ray snapped. "Fine, I’ll just concentrate on my work."

Fraser felt the anger from Ray. His point to concentrate on work indicated this may all affect their friendship. "I just meant there is nothing to concern yourself with, Ray,"

Ray chuckled. "Let’s change the subject," he said in quiet defeat. "Let’s talk about Sam Walters. Don’t suppose you’ve been able to keep your mind on that case."

"Ray," Fraser reprimanded.

"Sorry," Ray said. "I meant, I don’t suppose you’ve been able to figure anything I’ve overlooked."

"I’m afraid not, but we didn’t get the opportunity to discuss your findings."

"My findings?"

"Something about a metal box," Fraser attempted to jog his memory.

"Oh, right. The one I found under the floor out there that I think had the syringe in it."

Fraser nodded, then, as something clicked, he held up his hand to stop Ray. "Floor boards?" Fraser said and hurried into the kitchen. Ray followed with a confused look. Huey stopped what he was doing when Fraser walked in. "What did you find under the damaged flooring in the closet?"

Dewey stepped out of the pantry and straightened his pants. "Huh?"

"It was in the notebook I gave you. What did you find?"

Huey looked at Dewey, who returned the look.

"What notebook?" Ray interjected.

"Detective Brooks asked me to deliver a notebook to them to assist the investigation."

"What was in it?" Ray asked the boys.

Huey and Dewey looked at each other again, then Dewey finally spoke. "Squigg got the notebook." He shrugged. "Sorry."

Ray turned to Fraser. "The closet you said?" Fraser nodded and Ray continued. "Let’s go, then."

Opening the door to the closet near the front door, Fraser dropped to one knee and pulled at the damaged floorboards. "She told me the most noticeable thing was the damaged floorboards in the closet," he said as he worked on the boards that would not come at first. He removed his belt and used the buckle to pry it up. "It was the only thing she mentioned and if you didn’t look at it before Squigg got it, this is all we have." As the piece pulled away, they looked inside where they all at once saw a shoe box. Fraser carefully pulled it out and removed the lid. It was full of letters.

Huey, Dewey, Fraser, and Ray all sifted through the box of letters. They all were on the same stationary, in the same black writing, although the writing became more scribbled as time went by. Each letter was placed in chronological order behind the previous one. They were reading each with careful eyes, looking for a name or a clue. After nearly an hour, each letter had been read. Even then, they were without a name, but not without a clue. Fraser and Ray hurried to the Consulate to fill Tori in on what they’d found.

"Apparently," Fraser began, "Mrs. Stover was involved in an affair. They met in hotel rooms and restaurants. He began by writing poetic love letters to her."

Ray interrupted with the next part. "Then she tried to break it off and his letters got all weird. Pretty soon they were just threats, telling her if she told anyone he’d kill her and the usual ‘If I can’t have you, no one will’ crap. "

"So who is he?"

"Dunno. Huey’s bringin’ back the husband, hoping he knew something."

Tori nodded.

Ray shifted on his feet and pushed his jacket back so he could put a hand on his waist. He tilted his head. "How you doin’?"

Tori looked up. The bruising wasn’t as bad as he’d pictured while he was away. She looked more comfortable, too. "I’m ok," she replied, giving a little smile.

"Good," Ray said, having shown the necessary concern. "Look, I’m gonna get back over to the station – see what Huey and Dewey’ve been able to find. I’ll come back if I find anything out. "

Tori stiffened. "Before you go," she began, then shook her head.

"What?" Ray asked.

"Could we talk?" she requested. "Alone?"

Ray furrowed his brow. This was against the work only decision he’d made, but he agreed regardless. Fraser took the cue and left the room. Brooks slowly closed the door and took in the sight of Ray, giving a brave smile. Back at the station, Welsh mentioned you had all seen what happened. "

Ray folded his arms and nodded. "Yeah."

"I just want to know how long you were standing in the other room."

Ray shrugged. "Why?"

Tori leaned against the filing cabinet and looked at her feet. "I just need to know what you know about the whole situation."

"I saw just enough," Ray replied.

"What do you mean?" she pressed. "Just enough for what?"

"To see that you were afraid of him." Ray considered letting her know that he knew far more than she intended, he was sure, but knew that bringing it up would begin an uncomfortable conversation. Again, he didn’t want to deal with any of it so he pushed it away. Shifting slightly, he made the decision that he hadn’t heard anything except what she needed him to have heard. He’d push everything away and forget that it had been said. "I know you arrested his partner sometime in the past and I know you looked afraid of him. "

"Is that all you know? That’s everything you heard?" She had to know if he knew about the kiss, about the laundry list of evidence, and about Squigg’s threats against her friends and partners.

Ray shrugged. "That’s all I got. Want to explain why it’s so important?"

"No," she replied quickly, then shrugged when Ray raised his eyebrows, making it obvious he knew there was more. "He told me some… some information. "She swallowed. "It was about you." Letting out a breath, she ran her fingers through her hair. "I’m sorry.... I’m sorry, but it seems I’ve put your job in jeopardy as well as Constable Fraser’s."

Ray smiled wryly. "Oh? What’s he got on Fraze?"

Tori shook her head. "It’s not important. It will never stand up. It’s just that according to him, he’s got enough on you to do something pretty bad, I guess." She paused. "Look, to be honest, I wanted to know what he meant. I wanted to ask you what all this was about, but it’s none of my business."

"It doesn’t matter what he has," Ray soothed. "He won’t get another chance to use me or anyone against you. Whatever he says about me or Fraser or anyone else, just ignore it. It doesn’t matter."

Glad that he hadn’t heard much, she kept her façade that Squigg had nothing to hurt her. "Thanks," she said. "I just needed to know, needed you to know that things could get worse before they get better."

Ray nodded simply. "We good now?" he asked.

Brooks opened the door and waved him out. Ray moved next to Fraser and smiled. The two began down the hall, but Fraser stopped in the entryway. "Problem?" Ray asked.

"I’m going to stay here with Tori… uh, Detective Brooks," Fraser said softly. "Besides, I think I ought to take a meeting with Inspector Thatcher to update her on my situation. "

Ray glanced at down the hall toward Fraser’s office, grunted, and left without another word.

***

Still forced to borrow from the department’s pool of cars, Ray hopped into the navy sedan and started the engine. He sat there a moment, looking back at the doors to the Consulate. He found everything unsettling and his stomach turned. Something was right. He frowned and pulled away from the curb.

The sky began to cloud and Ray let out a long breath. The last thing he wanted was a rainstorm. As much as it fit his mood, he didn’t want to wallow. ‘What’s my problem?" he asked himself. 'I can’t get it off my mind, no matter how hard I try. ’He slowed at a red light and glanced out the side window. "She’s so aggravating," he said aloud. "So why do I want to be around her every second?"

Ray grunted as he floored the gas the instant the light turned green. ‘She’s with Fraser. Gotta remember that. If anyone deserves a woman, it’s that poor guy. ’Ray cocked his head and continued his thoughts. ‘Although, isn’t t odd that women throw themselves at him all day and all night, but she’s the one who managed to turn his head? She’s obviously not his type. She’s more my type. ’Pushing on one side of his temple with the heel of his hand, Ray groaned. ‘Stop. Stop thinking that. She’s not my type, she’s nobodies type. What am I doing to myself?’

Reaching across to the stereo, he flipped it on. ‘Oh, oh God. Not now. Some woman singing about unrequited love? What is this?’ He flipped the station until something appropriately mind numbing tuned in. He turned up the volume and pounded the steering wheel to its beat, drowning out everything else in his head until he pulled up to the station.

***

Tori was looking around in the closet when Fraser returned. He cleared his throat and she jumped and turned. "Sorry, I was, uh, hoping you had a small mirror. "

Fraser cocked his head, then went though his backpack. Eventually he produced a small mirror.

She took it from him and studied her face. She caught him watching her and dropped the mirror to the desk. "I don’t mean to be vain, it’s just that…" She let the sentence trail off.

Fraser stood waiting.

She shook her head. There was no explanation. She sighed and sat down. "I don’t want to remember Squigg forever, y’know?" She stopped and whispered the word, "Scars," before looking up and continuing. "I don’t want this to be with me forever. "

Fraser nodded. "Understood," he said quietly.

Tori leaned back in the chair and tilted her head. "So, tell me something about yourself, Constable. "

"Pardon me?"

"To pass the time. "

"Haven’t we already talked about…"

"No, that was me. You haven’t said much except a few Inuit tales. I suspect that’s not the whole of your life. "

Fraser shook his head. "There isn’t much to tell. I became a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in…"

"Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did you become a Mountie? You know what drove me to be a cop. "

Fraser pondered and gave a small shrug. "My father was a member. It’s a noble profession and I suppose there was never really much question as to whether or not I’d join. "

Brooks nodded. "I see. You came to Chicago because someone killed your father and you were hunting them down?"

Fraser furrowed his brow. "How did you…?"

Giving Fraser a grin, Brooks motioned to the desk. "You have a lot of information here, Constable. Not all of it is work related." She saw him glance at his personal journals and frown. "No," she said quickly. "There’s this picture. You said he was your father. You told me when we met that you had come to Chicago for a reason. I noticed in these notebooks where you have your agenda’s that there were some personal notes included. You wrote something about not having seen anything like it since your father died. A few more comments and I pieced it together. "

Fraser nodded. "Ah," he commented. "Well, it seems you know everything about me, then. "

"Not everything," she replied.

"I’m afraid there is nothing else," he insisted.

She leaned forward. "There is one thing. Victoria. "

Fraser snapped his neck to one side, then the other. "Ah. I …" he started to blush and she put up her hand with a laugh.

"Sorry. Didn’t realize it was too personal. "

"I think we both have secrets dealing with… that sort of thing. "

Brooks nodded and leaned back. She leaned forward again, this time as if enclosing a circle for the secret. "Well, Benton, I do have tales. Lots of them, but they are of little interest to others. I will say this, though, nothing compares to companionship. " Fraser nodded at this and she continued. "I always think I want the good guy, the one who knows a lot and thinks a lot and the kind of guy who is… well, much like yourself. They never seem to want me, though. "

Fraser cleared his throat and found he couldn’t look at her. "I’m sure that isn’t true. "

Brooks looked out the window a moment, then turned her gaze back on him. "Isn’t it?"

"It has nothing to do with whether or not I would like to… to…"

Tori could see his cheeks pinking at the suggestion. "No, that’s not the point," she interrupted, getting a look of relief in return. "Men like you are few and far between. Very few and extremely far between, to be exact," she mumbled. "There’s a bigger truth. You’re too good for me. "

Fraser smiled slightly. "Maybe you’re to good for us. "

Tori chuckled. "I assure you, I’m right on this. I deserve someone who’s on the verge of falling apart. What I deserve is someone who’s walking the edge of sanity. "

Fraser looked her in the eye. "The edge can be a very dangerous place. "

She cocked her head.

"My father taught me that. He often followed it with the story of an elk who…"

"I’m begging you, no wildlife stories, ok? I’ve got a headache and I’ve had a hell of a day. No elk, no bears, no beavers. "

Fraser rubbed his brow with his thumbnail. "Understood. "

There was a knock at the door and Fraser jumped to open it. Standing in the doorway was Inspector Thatcher. She stepped inside. "Fraser," she addressed, then noticed Tori. "Detective Brooks. "

Tori noticed Meg was still looking at her. "Meg. "

Meg rolled her eyes at the address. Brooks wasn’t her inferior so she could say nothing. It didn’t change the fact that she was most used to being addressed by her title. Suddenly taking notice of Tori’s face, she froze. "What happened?"

"I fell… over a chair… in the interrogation room. "

Meg took the hint and turned back to Fraser. "You’ve been in and out of here all day. I’m curious. Are you going to get back to Canadian business anytime soon?"

"Yes sir. I fully intend…"

"Good. Here. I want this agenda organized and in my office by morning. "

"Understood. "

"Thank you, Fraser. " She nodded acknowledgement to Tori and left.

***

Ray watched from the other side of the two way mirror as Jack and Dewey questioned Muriel Stover’s husband, Richard Stover. One arm was folded in front of him, and as he rested the other elbow on it, he couldn’t help fidgeting.

Welsh walked in as they were finishing up. "How’s it going?"

"Oh, jus’ grea’. Guy didn’t have a clue she was cheatin’ on him. "

"I’ve already sent out a team to ask the people she worked with. Try to find a friend she confided in or something. "

"Guess I’ll go over and question…"

"No, you will not do that. As I recall, you have another case you are supposed to be throwing yourself into. A matter of multiple deaths, as I recall. "

Ray grunted. "Just waiting for the break I need on that one. "

"Like what? Another dead body? They may all be guys with records, but we can’t hide the fact that bodies keep washing up on the shore and we don’t have a guy in jail for it. "

Ray weighed his options a moment. "Yeah, all right. " He finally gave in and went to his desk to collect some notes.

***

As Ray stepped into the office building where Muriel worked, his attention was caught immediately by the officer who was watching the secretary write down some information on a piece of paper.

"What is that?" Ray asked, pulling back his jacket to show his badge.

The officer turned. He took a moment to glance at the badge before showing him the paper. "She’s just writing down a few names she heard the victim mention on a few occasions. "

Ray glanced over the paper, then back at the secretary. "Anybody else she was real buddy-buddy with in the office?"

"Not really. She was kind of a private person, y’know? Never brought her home life to work with her.I didn’t even know she was married until she’d been working here for months. "

"Is someone searching her office?" he asked the officer.

"Yeah. Couple guys in there right now, but I think they’re about finished. "

The door opened and a younger man came through, dressed much more casually and carrying envelopes. He handed several to the secretary. "These are the day reports. " He said and looked up. "You guys askin’ about Muriel?"

"Yes," the officer replied.

"Well, look, I been tryin’ to tell someone. They said they were going to ask some of her cubicle-buddies some questions first. "

"Do you know something?" Ray asked as he led the guy over to some chairs and waved the other officer away.

"I think so, yeah. See, she used to come in to the mail room all the time, askin’ for letters, y’know? At first she was excited, then it started to seem like she dreaded it. She started gettin’ gifts, like flowers and stuff. "

"Were they always delivered? Did you ever see the guy who sent the stuff?"

"Nope, always delivered, but he liked one floral shop, came from there a lot. I think I have a card in my car. "

"A card?"

"Yeah. She used an envelope to write a web page for me. Nothin’ big, just recommended I check it out. "

"And you’re sure it’s in your car?"

"Probably. I don’t throw much away. Car’s kind of a sty. "

"Well, then, let’s go. " Ray followed the mail person to his car where he was accosted with fast food wrappers and empty Styrofoam cups. Finally the kid produced a small envelope. On the front in green letters was the name and address of a flower shop. On the back was a scribbled web address. Ray opened the envelope, hopeful. Inside there was still a card. "To my dearest love," it read, but there was no signature.

"Can I take this?" Ray asked and the guy nodded.

As he went back to his car, he flipped open his phone. "Jack? Yeah, I got somethin’. It’s a flower shop. I’m gonna go check it out… yeah, I know, I know, your collar, your case… c’mon, don’t gimme that. I’m helpin’ you out. If this lead turns into something.… All right, meet me there then. " He read the address into the phone and sped off.

***

It was beginning to get dark, but Fraser and Tori were still learning a lot about each other. Fraser was now at the desk, doing his work as Tori sat on the floor. Fraser flipped the folder closed and took a deep breath.

"Done?"

"Yes. As you could see, there wasn’t anything very difficult involved. I’ll go leave it on Inspector Thatcher’s desk so that she will have it first thing in the morning. "

Tori nodded him away and sat quietly, waiting for his return. After several minutes she heard talking and when Fraser opened the door, Ray stepped into the room with the largest grin she’d ever seen from him. She hurried to stand and couldn’t help smiling also. "What? What’s with the grin?"

"We got him. We traced him to a florist who knew the guy. His name’s Mike Ramsey. We knocked on the guy’s door, cuffed ‘im, took him to the station and, get this, he confessed to the whole thing. Jack and Dewey confronted him with the key to your apartment found at his place and a jack load of heroin all over his apartment. He’s got more track marks than Amtrak and there was meth in his car. Not only are you off the hook, the whole thing’s over!"

"You’ve got to be kidding. Nobody confesses. Nobody admits they did it. "

"He’s so out of it, they may not take it, but it doesn’t matter. He’s got needles and heroin and he’s a known user. On top of that he had her picture on the wall with a needle stuck in it. That’s not going to help at all. If you ask me, he’s a little wacko. I think maybe he wanted to get caught because he kept asking what took us so long." He paused. "Welsh wants to see us first thing in the morning, by the way. "

"Oh? Well, how ‘bout we meet up with him after an early morning boxing match? I’m dying to relieve some tension. "

Ray smiled again. "It’s a date. "

"I, uh, don’t see me going back to that apartment. Mind if I stay here until I find a new place, Benton?"

Fraser looked unsure. "I’m not sure Inspector Thatcher would be willing to allow this arrangement to continue for very much longer. "

"Well, I guess if she boots you out you can sleep at my place," Ray was quick to offer.

Brooks just smiled.

***

Both Brooks and Ray were in good spirits when they entered the squad room. They walked confidently into Welsh’s office.

"Ah, my pet project for the day. " Welsh began, then took a look at the marks on Brooks’ face which looked worse, but he knew that was a good sign. "How’re you doing?" he asked her.

"I’m fine," she said with the attitude that she didn’t know what he was talking about.

"Good, good. Well, I spent all night with the people upstairs. It’s all official. Here’s your badge and gun," he said as he presented them to her. "Everything’s been cleared up. This Davis Squigg, the one from IA? I managed to convince them that he’s the one who needs to be under investigation. So welcome back. "

"Thanks," she replied, slipping the gun into its holster. "I appreciate the effort, but nothing will happen to Squigg. He’s got the right connections." She paused. "But thank you. "

Welsh shrugged and turned to his other Detective. "As for you, Ray, I told you to keep your nose in this other case. Where’s the progress?"

"I’ll have some for you by the end of the day, Lieutenant. " Ray acted more respectful than usual.

"I should have had some today, but you were too busy sticking your nose into this one," he said, motioning toward Brooks. "Jack and Dewey are not too happy, but they’ll get over it. "

Ray smiled. "Well, they still get the collar -- even though all the steam’s been taken out, eh?"

"Yeah. " Welsh said with a chuckle. "Well, that’s it. I have a lot of work to do and so do you. You know, Detective," he sternly spoke to Ray, "If another body turns up, I feeding you to the reporters who’ve called the past couple of days. " He watched to make sure he’d made his point, then waved them away.

Stepping through Welsh’s office door, Ray stopped. Tori moved beside him and caught sight of Fraser. "Oh, good. Benton’s here," she said.

Ray cranked his neck to look at her, then faced forward with a glare. "Yippee," he breathed.

Brooks tapped his upper arm. "I though the two of you were best friends," she observed. "Was I wrong?"

Ray shook his head. "No," he replied. "You’re not wrong. "

Tori furrowed her brow and looked up. Fraser now stood just across Ray’s desk from them, Dief in tow.

"Hey Fraze," Ray said limply. "We’re going back to bug this Walters guy. I still think we can catch him if we just play our cards right. "

"I’m sure we can," Tori agreed. "Perhaps on the drive over you guys can give me more details about this guy. "

"He’s a tough customer," Ray began. "Guys like that always make me crazy. "

When they arrived at the building by the lake Ray and Fraser had visited twice before, they saw a short man in a knit hat tying up a small boat. He looked up and saw Ray, then immediately hurried inside. Tori, now having ample information to try a trick she rarely used, stepped out and removed her jacket. Underneath she was wearing a tank top with shiny ribbon around the neck. Ray watched, stunned, as she reached behind her and tucked the back of the shirt tighter to accentuate her chest even more. Ray’s mouth slacked open and she removed her gun, then looked up. "You catch more flies with honey," she replied in a soft tone and headed for the building. Ray scurried up next to her.

Before even knocking, Sam Walters opened the door. "Ah, how good to see you again, Detective. I think three times constitutes harassment. " He turned to Brooks. "What do you think?"

"I don’t know what you are talking about. I’ve only been here once," she replied in a gentle voice.

Fraser stepped up, Stetson in hand. "We would just like to ask you a few simple questions, sir. "

"Oh really?" Sam said, still taking in the sight of Detective Brooks. "I don’t suppose you’re hiding a warrant in there somewhere," he requested.

"Do we really need a warrant, Sam?" she said, her voice almost seductive. "After all, it would have been stupid of you to leave incriminating evidence lying around when the heat is on. "

Sam smiled. "Yes, it would," he replied and guided them into the back where there was a desk with a seat behind it and two chairs across from it. He offered one to Brooks who sat, but leaned forward so as to leave little to the imagination. Sam walked around the desk and sat in his chair, an executive leather seat in which he reclined slightly. Ray took the other seat. Fraser stood in a corner, his hat resting in the crook of his arm.

"You’re pretty willing to talk today, aren’t you?" Ray was skeptical.

"It’s just a few questions, right? If I answer them, you’ll leave me alone. Deal?"

"Leave you alone? I’m not sure. What am I leavin’ alone?" Ray inquired.

"Me, my business," Sam asserted.

"A little you scratch my back, I scratch yours, huh?" Ray said.

Sam tipped his head down in a half nod.

"Well, I don’t work that way. " Ray stood suddenly.

"You know, I don’t have to talk. We’ve discussed my rights. "Sam said firmly.

"All right, no more mister nice guy," Ray said and reached for Sam.

Tori grabbed Ray’s arm. "C’mon. No reason this has to get ugly. Sit down. " Her voice was firm, but still sexy.

Ray looked at her and she gave him a look that restored his confidence in her. He sat slowly.

"You know, Mister Walters, was it?" She waited for a nod. "I have a little story I would like to share. "

Ray rolled his eyes. "You’re sounding like Fraser. "

"Oh, you’ll like this story, Ray. You see, it’s also a bit of a history lesson. "

Ray sunk in his chair and pushed on his temples with the heel of each hand.

"It seems that in 1930, the heyday of prohibition, there was a certain member of organized crime who made a lot of money sneaking booze in via Lake Michigan. This mobster, and I’m afraid I don’t remember his name," she said, adding a flirtatious smile. "This gentleman had a very interesting way of doing things. Some say he was a little nuts. "

"Is this going to be long?" Ray asked impatiently.

"This is the good part, Ray. See, he had a reputation for never letting his betrayers get away. He didn’t get caught the entire time he was alive. It wasn’t until after his death that they finally figured out what happened to the people who betrayed him. Actually, it is a little known fact that he was ever found out. "

Sam shifted in his chair and looked at Fraser.

"So what did he do?" Ray was finally intrigued.

"He injected the victims with salt water into their lungs. It’s a slow and painful death and then he’d shoot them and dump them in the lake. Problem was, a few managed to wash ashore. "

She watched Sam swallow. "What do you think about that, Mr. Walters?"

"I’m not sure I understand how…"

"Do you know how the gangster died?" She cut him off.

He shook his head. "A couple of his thugs gave him the salt water treatment when they got tired of doing his dirty work. "

Sam swallowed, but tried not to let his fear show.

"Well," she stood, "I think that about covers it. Shall we go?" Brooks started out.

Ray jumped up and followed in protest. "What? I’m not done. "

Brooks kept walking. Ray followed reluctantly to the car where he grabbed her. "We didn’t even find anything out. We don’t have anything to go on. Now he knows we’re onto him and the salt water injections. What good is that?"

"He’s caught and he knows it. What’s the first thing a guy does when he knows he’s been caught?"

"Uh, lies about it," Ray admitted.

Brooks rolled her eyes. "After that. After that he goes to check on things and doesn’t pay much attention about who’s watching, right?"

Ray thought a minute and realized she was right. "Mmf," he grunted. "That’s excellent. "He paused and recalled the story. "How’d you know all that stuff, anyway?"

"I had a lot of free time at the Consulate. I made some calls, connected the pieces of your case, then read until I had a connection to the old one. "

"I love it!" Ray said emphatically. He opened the car door and Tori pulled up the seat. Dief jumped in, but Fraser looked out toward the water. He noted that the boat was still there, then climbed in the car.

"You know what’s got me baffled, though?" Ray said after he’d started away from the place.

"What’s that?" Brooks inquired.

Ray looked out the window in deep thought. "If he’s been doin’ all of these murders, why’s his bullet in one of those guys?"

"Good question, Ray. Did we get ballistics reports on the other bullets?"

"Yeah. They’re from an unregistered gun," he replied.

"Well, Walter’s isn’t doing this whole thing by himself. That’s too much work for a guy who wears nice suits and has business meetings as he does," she pointed out.

"Uh huh. "

Brooks continued. "If one of his thugs got tired of killing, it would be stupid to just come in and report the guy, right?"

"You followin’ this, Fraze?"

Fraser looked up. "Yes, actually. Someone in his position might use a gun that could be traced to Mr. Walters in order to tip off the police. "

"Ah," Ray said, letting it sink in. "So what happened to that guy?"

"Well, if he’s not the one helping Walters now," Brooks said, "then he’s probably one of the corpses. "

"Morgue?" Ray asked, dreading the answer.

"Yes, Ray. "

***

Mort was in his usual operatic mode. He was leaning over a body, light and magnification aimed at the hairline. He saw the group enter and straightened. "What can I do for you today?" he asked.

"Hello, Mort. Remember the body that came in a few days ago? He was injected and then shot?" Brooks was the one to ask.

"I’ve had a few of those recently. "

"This one had a bullet from a gun registered to a Sam Walters. It was the first one we found. " Ray looked away and let Brooks handle it.

Mort checked his files quickly. "Oh yes, through there," he said as he pointed.

"Actually, we’re looking for the one that would have died after that one. We need them listed in chronological order – time of death. "

Mort concentrated, then handed them a stack of files. "They are all in there. Figure out the ones you want, leave the rest. "

They sorted through them one by one. Finally they found the one they were looking for. They looked at the number and went to the lockers where they pulled out a slab and removed the sheet.

Fraser and Brooks both leaned over the body while Ray went to find the personal effects.

Ray returned a couple of minutes later. "So we got a name, what else do we need?"

Fraser sniffed the hand, then the nails. "Not much, Ray. He’s got gun powder on his hand and saltwater under his nails. "

"So I have a new question," Ray asked. "If that mob guy got caught finally, why would Walters copycat the crime?"

Fraser looked to Ray. "He was caught after his death, according to Tori’s story. There would be no need for the press to get involved, therefore the story would not be publicized. "

"Yeah," Tori added. "So I doubt Walter’s ever knew the guy got caught. He thought he was committing the perfect crime, but he wasn’t smart enough to come up with it on his own. "

"And the bodies were washin’ up the whole time, even back then, right?" Ray confirmed.

"Right. As currents sifted the sand, new and old ones were lifted up and carried to shore at different times," Fraser inserted.

"Queer," Ray breathed.

"I’ll say," Brooks replied.

***

After securing a warrant for the arrest of Sam Walters, as well as one for a search of his property, they headed back out to the building. They knocked, but there was no answer. Fraser noted that the boat was still there, but as they were trying to get inside, the boat was blocked from view. They finally got in and Ray went straight for the floorboards. The gun and syringe were not there, as he had expected them to be. Brooks was looking around when she noticed Fraser looking out of the window, toward the water.

"Hmm," he finally said.

Ray looked out and saw the man with the knit hat was rowing madly away with a bundle under a blanket and Sam Walters.

Ray and Tori looked to each other, then ran out and around the building, to the water. Ray pulled his gun. "Mr. Walters! Come back here. "

Tori jumped into the water and swam out to the boat. They pushed her away with the oar but she swam under the boat and onto the other side. Sam reached for her and fell out of the boat, capsizing it at the same time. He started to swim to shore, but not toward Ray.

Fraser jumped in and swam out. There was a brief struggle, but Sam was obviously not very nimble. Soon Fraser dragged him ashore.

Brooks grabbed the shorter man and he slugged her. She went under the water, but pulled him down with her. They came up a moment later and she shoved him under the water as he caught a breath. Suddenly, her feet came out from under her and the man came up. He then disappeared under the water again and the next time they came out, several seconds later, he was cuffed. She brought him to Ray who read him his rights and called for backup. She then swam back out. When she reached the boat, she dived. The water wasn’t very deep, but she was under for a long time. Fraser and Ray watched until finally she came up, pulling a body with her. She dragged it to shore with a big grin. "You’ve been caught, Mr. Walters, and you’re not even dead yet. "

***

Welsh stepped up behind Tori who was chatting with Dewey. "Brooks, can I see you in my office?"

She sighed. "I suppose. "

Welsh closed the door behind her and sat at his desk. "I got a friend – at another precinct. He just had an officer retire and another was killed in the line of duty. He called me, asking me if I knew anyone who wanted a transfer. He wants to give you a new start, if you want it. "

She sat down. "I wasn’t aware I was looking to leave. "

"You don’t have to go. It’s just that my men have been working together for a long time. Some of them haven’t really let you into the clubhouse. I just thought maybe…"

Brooks glanced out the door. Ray was now talking to Dewey and she frowned. "Can I think about it?"

"Yeah, sure, certainly. He needs to know by the end of the week though. He wants to have someone new in there as soon as possible. "

She nodded and left solemnly from the office. She picked up some files and took them to Francesca.

"Hi, Fran. "

"You know, a lot of people who don’t know me very well call me Miss Vecchio. Maybe you could try that. "

Tori was dumbfounded. "Ok, Miss Vecchio, can you input these for me?"

"What’s the matter? No fingers? I hear you’re not working on a case, do it yourself. "

Brooks suddenly looked managerial. "What? I believe this is your job, isn’t it?"

Francesca glared at Tori. "Maybe you can get Fraser to help you," she replied coldly.

"Ah," Brooks responded. "I see what this is about. "She set the files before Francesca. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Frannie snapped.

Brooks smiled slightly and sat on the corner of the desk. "You have quite an interest in Fraser don’t you?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," Francesca replied, flipping over the first of the files Brooks had given her and beginning to type.

Sighing Brooks pushed everything aside and scooted more onto the desk. "Look, I’m sorry that you saw what you saw and I’m sorry that Squigg made you talk about it and whatever else he made you tell him. "She paused when Francesca looked up at her. "That’s not my fault and if it makes any difference, that kiss didn’t mean anything. "

"Sure looked like it didn’t," Francesca replied.

"It didn’t," Tori emphasized. "Francesca. Sorry, Miss Vecchio, I’m not nearly good enough for a guy like him, even if I wanted that. "

"That’s the beauty of him," Francesca protested. "He’s so perfect that he doesn’t make you feel like your not worthy. "Turning to eye the Mountie, Francesca leaned back in her chair.

Brooks smiled. "He’s all yours," she said softly and watched Francesca typing. Standing, Brooks let out a breath. "May not be around long enough to matter," she said quietly as she walked toward Ray’s desk.

Approaching the talking pair, she took in a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "Hey," she said.

Fraser and Ray looked up. "Yeah?"

"What are you working on?" she asked.

"Nothing," Ray said quickly.

She watched them for a minute, then moved next to Ray. "Hey, Ray?"

"Yeah?"

"If I weren’t around anymore, could we still see each other on a non professional basis?"

Fraser felt a personal conversation approaching and straightened. They were all silent for a moment, then Ray caught himself staring at Brooks. "Maybe we should box every week. Keeps us more productive. "

"Oo, three syllables. "

"’Ey!"

"Well, I wouldn’t mind having some way to relieve tension," she admitted.

"And we would be meeting on a non professional basis. " He grinned boyishly at his joke.

"Thanks, Ray," she said then returned to Welsh’s office.

Tori stepped into the office and sat on the couch. Intending to run a few thoughts and questions past her superior, she instead ended up with a long winded lecture.

Her mind wandered. It had taken her so long to realize that when she told Fraser what she wanted that she’d met someone who fit the mold. In the past when she’d rebelled against perfection, she’d ended up with a fiancé who informed her one night that he expected her to quit her job. That wasn’t the part that angered her. What really got under her skin was that she realized at that moment that he didn’t have a clue who she was. She’d played his game to end up in his arms, but that night when she’d shown her true self, he threw her out. Showing her true self had ended many relationships, but when she looked out the window at Ray, a smile crossed her lips. She’d punched the guy and the next time he saw her, he was jovial. He took her punches and doled them out them out equally well. When they talked, she felt she was talking to a friend and an equal; nothing more, nothing less.

Replaying certain crucial events, she wondered if she was alone in these thoughts. She couldn’t make a move if all she would get was a slap in the face. till, when she’d removed her jacket and played the vamp to catch Sam Walters, she couldn’t help notice that Ray had tried to steal glimpses when he didn’t know she was watching. In fact, if she turned to him, his gaze would suddenly focus on the most inane detail in the room. She smiled a nefarious grin and stared at nothing. She’d get what she wanted and that’s all that mattered.

"Are you listening?" Welsh asked after he’d finished his speech.

"Of course," Brooks replied. "And you’re right," she added, looking hopefully to see if it fit with anything he’d mentioned.

Welsh relaxed. "Then you want me to call in your partner and tell him?" he confirmed.

"Oh, oh, sure," she said, regaining her bearings and watching as Welsh stepped to the door and called Ray into his office.

Fraser came close on his heels. "Would I be useful to this conversation as well?" Fraser asked.

Welsh waved him inside as a reply and moved back behind his desk. "Would you like to tell them?"

Brooks found herself watching Ray, wondering what his reaction was going to be. Ray could feel her eyes bore into him and he turned. As he did so, she smiled slightly and looked at Fraser. Fraser stood at attention, waiting.

Welsh frowned when Brooks didn’t answer. He cleared his throat and began. "You’re off the hook, Vecchio. Looks like we’ve found Detective Brooks a new assignment. "

"Oh really?" Ray asked, a smile crossing his face. "No more babysitting?" he added, giving a nudge to the air with his elbow.

"I’ve transferred her to another precinct," Welsh informed them, then turned to the papers on his desk, listening, but not getting involved.

Ray’s smile faded just slightly for only an instant before he regained his composure. He couldn’t let anyone, especially her, know that the statement bothered him. He searched for the words to say. Trying to find the behaviour for a person who didn’t give a damn about another person proved nearly impossible. He was speechless.

Fraser swallowed and turned to Brooks. He was also at a lack for words. Wondering if he was the cause, blaming himself for the hurt he must have caused, Fraser took in her countenance for several seconds before straightening again.

Ray finally found his tongue and moved a step toward her, his arms open. "Hey, that’s great," he began, though he didn’t believe it. "Celebrate. Yes. We should celebrate. What do you say the three of us go out to dinner tonight?"

Brooks nodded, then rose to her feet. "Yeah, sure. Sounds great. " She tried to hide her disappointment. The man hardly seemed affected. He’d even offered to celebrate. She tucked a hand in her jeans and glanced at Fraser. He’d still said nothing.

Ray followed her glance even as she turned her gaze to the floor. He’d seen her take a brief moment to get Fraser’s reaction so Ray turned to the Mountie now and kept his grin bright. "You coming?"

Fraser stood silent a moment. "I don’t feel like celebrating," he replied quietly.

Ray watched as Fraser put on that silly Canadian hat and left without even a goodbye. Frowning, he turned back to Brooks who was watching the Mountie walk through the bull pen.

"Micellio’s?" Ray asked.

Brooks snapped her head and paused. She needed a moment to realize what he’d said. "Fancy," she said at last.

"Big celebration," Ray replied.

Brooks swallowed. "Sure," she replied. "I’ll meet you there at eight. "

Ray nodded and left the room. Standing beside his desk, he looked at the paperwork, but was only putting on an act so his reason for leaving the squad room and entering in the cafeteria would look planned.

When he stepped in front of the soda machine, he frowned.

"They out of cranky juice?" Francesca said from behind him and he spun.

He realized he hadn’t been frowning at the machine. He moved across the room and sat on a table. Watching as Francesca pushed a few coins into the snack machine and removed a small bag of pretzels, Ray wondered if what Francesca had told the investigator had been true. After all, it seemed very convenient for her to tell such a tale about Fraser because no one in the station would actually believe it.

"What are you staring at?" she asked as she sat in a seat nearby.

"Oh, nothing," Ray said.

"Well, don’t get any ideas," she said quickly. "I’ve already told you I’m not interested. You should lose interest real quick, too, seein’ as you’re my brother. "She grinned and popped a pretzel in her mouth.

"Naw," Ray replied. "Don’t know where you’ve been. "He smiled at his joke, then ran his thumb along his neck.He wanted to prod her for information, but that was against his own decision to forget what he’d heard. In the end, he smiled again, gave a grunt, and left the cafeteria, Frannie following him with a confused gaze.

***

Tori Brooks stepped through the doors of the Consulate to be greeted by Turnbull who sat behind the desk filling out his paperwork. He looked up when the light flashing into the lobby and smiled. "Ma’am," he acknowledged.

"Hi, Turnbull," Tori said. "Is Constable Fraser available?"

Turnbull glanced at the Inspector’s door. "He’s in a meeting," Turnbull replied.

Tori stretched her hand, then made a fist. "Uh, would you mind if I waited?"

"Of course not," Turnbull replied, motioning to a chair along the wall.

"Would you mind if I waited in his office?" she asked.

Turnbull considered it a moment. He was about to say no, then recalled how much time she’d spent there. Had it truly been a concern, he would have been notified. "Go ahead,"

Brooks walked along the hallway and through the doorway, turning just before the exit and entering into the small office. She moved to sit behind the chair. Examining at her nails, she saw that one of them had a rough edge. Glaring at it a moment, she stuck the finger in her mouth, tugged, and spit. If her mother, the woman of everlasting etiquette and grace, had seen that she’d have flipped. ‘The woman rolled over in her grave when I got my first tattoo,’ she thought to herself.

She didn’t want to think about why she’d come so she thought about dinner. She wasn’t sure what she would wear. Tori lived a fairly simple life, owning only the minimum she needed for every occasion. A perfectly acceptable gown hung at one end of her closet, she knew. It was unflattering and proper. While it carefully covered every tattoo, it lacked character and personality in a simple classic shapeless black. She kept it for funerals and formal occasions. Micellio’s was an elegant restaurant, but not so much so that anything more than a simple dress would be required.

Beside it hung another dress. She couldn’t explain why she’d bought it, but she smiled when she thought of it. She could never wear it because it was revealing and elegant at the same time. It had always been difficult to find an occasion fancy enough to wear it because the tattoos removed any elegance from her being and she just didn’t go out much.

She smiled a wicked smile. Wouldn’t she get the evil eye from everyone at the restaurant if she walked in wearing that? She let the smile fade. Ray would be looking too. Tapping her fingers on the desk, she reconsidered the frumpy gown. He didn’t deserve more. He wanted her gone and the last thing she wanted to give him was the satisfaction of an image in his mind he could remember.

Just then, her thoughts were interrupted by the figure in the doorway. Fraser took a step inside and turned his gaze on her. He said nothing.

Brooks watched him for a moment, waiting. The silence irritated her into speech. "What was that all about? You didn’t feel like celebrating? I’m moving on with my life, Benton. What would you prefer? What would put you in the spirits to celebrate?"

Finally being allowed a moment to respond, Fraser took in a short breath. "I just wasn’t up to merriment on your behalf," Fraser replied coldly, knowing she would hear anything other than the truth.

"Why?"

Fraser paused. He didn’t want to say any of the thoughts that ran through his mind. Every one of them was inappropriate. He wanted to hide in his shell, but something about Tori let him say the things he never said. She let him speak and still made him feel the perfect being he attempted to be. Moving directly across the desk from her, he looked her firmly in the eye. "Do you run often?"

"Excuse me?" Tori asked, her eyes blazing with fire.

"I don’t understand the purpose of leaving when you only arrived under Leftenant Welsh’s command a mere three days ago. "

"That’s my business," Brooks returned.

"I suppose it is," Benton replied. "Don’t come looking for answers if you already have them," he added.

Tori could say anything. He’d struck her dumb. She stood slowly and finally found words. "I thought we were friends. I came to find out what upset you, not to get attacked. "

"I’d hardly refer to that as an attack," Benton observed. "Tori, I… Detective," he caught himself. "I just want to know what will be resolved by leaving. "

Tori shrugged. "A new start, different things. "

Fraser furrowed his brow. "A new start? I thought that’s what you had here with us. Different things? I certainly felt that this was different. Perhaps the behaviour you’ve exhibited over the past few days is normal. "

Tori folded her arms. "Are you talking about us kissing or my fighting with Ray?"

"Which one is normal behaviour for you?" Fraser inquired.

Swallowing, Brooks dropped her arms. "Neither, I suppose. "The room went silent.

"You don’t have to go," Fraser said gently, finally breaking the stillness in the air.

Tori looked into the honesty in his eyes and nodded. "I know, but I think we’d all be better off. "

"I’m not sure I know what you mean," he stated. "If you mean us, I don’t know what else to say other than I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it happened again and…"

"No, no. "She stopped him. "I keep thinking that Ray and I…" she let the sentence trail.

"You and Ray can work out your differences. In fact, I’m certain that if you two looked beyond the surface, you’d find you have a lot in common. "

Tori smiled sheepishly. "That’s the problem. "When she was met with Fraser’s inquisitive gaze, she cracked her neck. "Ray is definitely a special person. "

Fraser curled up one corner of his mouth. "Special, yes. "

"Very special," Tori pushed, adding a wink to see if Fraser caught her meaning.

It took him a moment, but he did. "Then why all this?" he asked astounded.

"Because he’s obviously not feeling the same way. Did you see him jump for joy when I told him I was leaving?"

"No," Benton replied, then tugged on his ear. "But what about you. You didn’t tell him how you felt, did you?"

"Of course not. "

"Why not?" Fraser queried

"Because I’m not completely sure how I feel.I just realized I was putting on a show because he irritated the hell out of me, but he irritated the hell out of me because I let him. "

"And you let him because you care?"

"Care?I wouldn’t go that far," she stated.

"What makes you think he’s not using the same roués you are?"

Tori furrowed her eyebrows.She couldn’t answer him.

***

Ray was mesmerized by the water in the glass before him. He’d arrived early and at last glance, Brooks was ten minutes late.He ran his finger through the perspiration on the glass, letting a trickle dribble down the side.

When the maitre d’ finally pulled out the chair beside him, Ray looked up, the words ‘It’s about time’ on his lips, but frozen there when he saw her. He couldn’t move as he took in the sight before him.Tori stood in a satin princess seem gown which accentuated her figure. The muscles of her form were shapely and he decided that she cleaned up much better than he expected.Stopping at the shoulder, he grinned at the fact that she’d walked confidently into the restaurant with one of her tattoos showing.She had guts. Trying not to be obvious, he stopped at her face which she’d very lightly accented with a hint of makeup, revealed by pulling her hair back into a lovely, but wild twist, and tipped with silver earrings with opal stones glittering inside.

Turning his attention back to his menu, he tried to remain unaffected. "Hey there. "

"Hi," she said, trying to judge his behaviour in its new light.Gliding into the chair, she nodded as the waiter was quick to fill her water glass and offer her a napkin.

Ray smiled. "I already know what I want. "

"Are you going to wait for me this time?"

"Hmm," he thought aloud. "I suppose. "

When they ordered, Ray quickly added a bottle of champagne to the order.

"A bottle?" she asked as the man walked away.

Ray nodded. "Well, we are celebrating your new assignment, aren’t we?"

"I suppose," she replied, tilting her head. "I suppose we are celebrating the fact that I’m leaving. " She paused. "Or are you celebrating the fact that you won’t have to see me again?"

Ray didn’t move as the waiter appeared with their bucket and popped the cork.Ray waved the man away before letting him pour their drinks. "What does that mean?" he asked at last.

Tori looked down at her lap, then the bottle.Reaching for it, she shook her head. She didn’t want to start anything here. "Nothing. "

Ray put his hand on top of hers against the bottle, stopping her from lifting it. "No, that meant something. "

Attempting to diffuse the situation, she pulled her hand back. "I suppose you are glad you don’t have to work with a partner. "

Ray took the bottle and poured them each a glass in silence. As he set it back into the ice, he looked back at her. "Of course I’m glad I don’t have to work with a partner.Fraser’s my partner.It’s too much trying to deal with another detective as well. "Brooks nodded and picked at a dinner roll. Ray sipped from his glass. "But that’s not what you said. "

Tori looked as though she’d been caught stealing. "Close enough. "

Ray shook his head. "No, it’s not.Just because we’re not partners doesn’t mean I won’t see you again, does it?"He paused, recalling. "I mean, we already set up to go boxing, didn’t we?"

"Like you were planning to follow through with that," Brooks replied. "it was just a passing comment. "

Ray closed his eyes for several seconds and chuckled. "I didn’t realize it was," he said. "I guess I get it. "He drank the rest of his champagne in one gulp and poured himself another. "Let’s just make the most of tonight," he said finally. "We’ll just have a nice dinner and forget it, ok?"

"Whatever you say," Tori agreed in surrender.She’d heard enough.While her head told her to get up and walk away, her heart wouldn’t let her.It was determined to enjoy these last fleeting moments.

So they spent the rest of their meal talking about nothing. Carefully avoiding friendship territory like a mine field, they managed to find subjects that changed their manner into something jovial.At the end of the meal, they decided to celebrate dessert with another bottle of champagne.

Brooks admitted to being lightheaded as she looked up and down the street for a cab.

"Where’s your motorcycle?"Ray asked, looking around the parking area.

"At my apartment. "

"Oh?You went back there?"

Brooks smiled. "My new apartment.I found a little something where I didn’t dream about dead bodies. "

Ray smiled. "Ah," he replied. "Why isn’t the bike here with you?"

She laughed a little too much and held out the skirt of her dress. "In this? Are you crazy?"

Ray sighed. "Of course not," he said with realization. "C’mon, I’ll give you a ride. "

"We’ve both been drinking. Maybe we should both take a cab. "

Ray thought a moment, then nodded. He hailed a cab for them and offered to take her home first.

He had to get out first to let Tori exit the cab and as he extended his hand, she took it. Stepping onto the curb, she stumbled a little and Ray laughed. "Did we really drink that much?" he asked.

"It’s these silly shoes," she used as an excuse. "It’s so rare that I wear heels…"

Ray looked down and caught himself stopping at her legs as she straightened her dress. She looked up and saw him watching. "I suppose this is good night, Ray?"

He looked at her and took a deep breath, moving his eyes along her exposed neck.The smell of her gentle musk and their champagne lingered in the air. "I better walk you to your door, just to make sure you make it ok. "

She smiled. "Maybe not. Remember what happened last time you tried to be chivalrous?"

Ray smiled, then laughed a little. He closed the door to the cab, went to the window and paid the cabby. "I’ll catch another one home," he said to the driver who nodded and drove away. When he turned, he saw her on the grass removing the offending shoes.He had to grab her as she nearly stumbled again.He held her arm for several seconds after she was standing, watching her as she watched him.Slowly he let go and stepped toward the entrance.Tori got in step beside him and stopped at the door.Fumbling for the key, she opened it and they walked into the lobby.

The effects of the drinks hit her as she turned, eyebrows furrowed, before remembering where the elevator was.She tried to excuse her behaviour again as the doors closed by saying the elevator was in an odd location.

Standing before her door, she grunted.She fumbled again as she’d put the key back in her clutch. "This is why I hate carrying these things around," she commented.

Ray watching intently.She found the key and slipped it into the lock, pushing the door open as she turned it. After the door was wide open, she looked back at him.The two of them stared at each other for several moments.

"Coffee?" Brooks finally offered, not wanting the good feeling to end, but wondering what she would tell him when she couldn’t produce coffee.The percolator was at the bottom of a box and she couldn’t begin to fathom where the coffee beans and grinder were.

Ray just nodded and followed her inside. She immediately dropped her shoes and went to the kitchen. At this point she had only moved the essentials and had her couch and several boxes set around the living room.

He followed her into the kitchen. Feeling a little dizzy, he leaned against the door frame. "Uh, Tori?"

She turned. She’d be forced to tell the truth. "I don’t know where my coffee is. I’m sorry. "

"It’s ok. "He smiled slightly to ease the feeling of tension knotting inside him. Out of the blue, he knew what he had to say. "I, uh, I wanted to tell you something. "

She led him back to the couch and motioned for him to sit also. He did before he spoke again. "I… I… I need you to know something. It’s important we don’t have secrets. My name isn’t Ray Vecchio. " She looked surprised and confused. "It’s a long story, but I’m covering for Vecchio. "

"What is your name, then?" she asked when she thought of it.

"It’s still Ray," he replied quickly. "It just that it’s Stanley Raymond Kowalski. "

"Stanley Kowalski? Isn’t that…"

"Yeah, Dad had a thing for Brando. Look, I just needed you to know that. "

"Thank you, Ray," she replied softly, things about Squigg’s information beginning to make sense.

Silence came over them again and she sat unmoving.Ray felt strange. He didn’t want to think about anything anymore.His brain disconnected from his actions as he leaned closer to Brooks.She felt him moving closer and closed her eyes. Her heart was racing and she knew this was what she wanted.

His body moved of its own will as his arm went around her shoulder. His eyes closed as his faced neared hers.Tori’s mind wandered.She realized then that while, at first, she thought she only needed affection, she now knewthat it was Ray. He was the one she needed it from and Fraser was just…

He could feel her breath on his lips as she breathed. It was warm and soft and just as he knew their lips would touch, he felt the warm breath form the words. "I kissed Fraser. " His brain and body reconnected. ‘Why did she have to say that?’ he asked himself. "I know," he replied, closing his eyes again and leaning toward her.

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You knew?" she asked.

"Does it matter?"Ray placed his hand on her jaw and looked longingly at her lips. He could still make it go away if he just said the right things, he convinced himself.

"Twice," the lips formed before his eyes.

He looked into her eyes and froze. "Twice?"

Tori nodded. I needed you to know that, Ray, before…before anything happened."

"Fraser? Our Fraser? Constable, Mountie guy Fraser?"

"Ray?"

"He’s cleaner than a boy scout! How on earth did you get him to kiss you?" Ray stood and added, in a trance, "Twice."

"Ray?" she said again, seeing that his mind had left the room. Ray walked to the door and opened it, looking back for one last look. Taking in everything he could he looked away dispassionately. "Ray? Ray? I’m sorry. Ray, please come back here and talk to me."

He stepped through the doorway. "I can’t talk to you right now, I…" he looked confused, then hurried away.

She wasn’t going to let it go away. She wasn’t going to let him forget, despite the alcohol haze. He felt she was sabotaging them before anything could happen. Betrayed he went to the safety of the hallway.

Brooks knew it wasn’t worth following him. They would discuss it later.